《Grave of the Bold》


 Lone Survivor

    Prologue


    A vast desert rolled away into the distance in front of the walls of Andaban. Beyond it, the Korum Mountains cut like icy daggers into the pale blue sky. A sentry slowly paced the walls, staring out into the distance beyond the safety of the crumbling city. He stopped suddenly, seeing something. It was a lone figure riding a horse slowly along the northern road. In the distance suddenly the lone dark figure stopped and the rider fell to the ground.


    ¡°Oi!¡± The sentry called down to a guard next to the gate, ¡°Someone on the road, go check it out.¡±


    The guards were green-clad Free City mercenaries employed by The Company. The guards reluctantly got up from their game of dice and strolled out to look for themselves. ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°A quarter mile down the road.¡±


    ¡°You do it.¡± They shouted back.


    ¡°Fuck you, I¡¯m on the wall, you¡¯re down there. Your job. Do it.¡±


    A sergeant emerged from the gatehouse, drawn by the shouting, ¡°What¡¯s all this, then?¡± The man was older, grizzled, with greying hair, an unkempt beard, and an untidy cavalryman¡¯s black jacket.


    ¡°Man on the road, collapsed about a quarter mile out. These lazy bastards won¡¯t bloody go and look!¡± The sentry shouted down.


    ¡°Okay, then I¡¯ll do it.¡± The sergeant shouted up, ¡°And these lumps will come and help me, won¡¯t they?¡± The mean-looking sergeant glared at the mercenaries. They didn¡¯t look the slightest bit chastened, but they did obey him, at least.


    The guards rolled their eyes and they made their way out of the gate behind the sergeant. Ten minutes later they returned leading an exhausted bay horse and carrying a ragged sunburnt figure between them. A guard was sent running to get a lieutenant. The man was brought to an infirmary and his horse was stabled.


    It was cool in the infirmary, or at least cooler than it had been outside in the sun. It wasn¡¯t the hottest part of the year and the old sandstone buildings of Andaban were somehow miraculously comfortable even in summer. The man was unconscious. His clothes were in tatters. Once they had probably been neat and crisp and black. The uniform of a Vastrum soldier. Now they were caked with dried blood and dirt, with holes torn in them. The man was thin, like he hadn¡¯t eaten in weeks and his skin was red and burned from the sun. He had a beard, scraggly and filthy. His lips were chapped and cracked. A nurse sat at the side of his bed and lifted a small cup of water to his mouth. He sputtered and coughed, but then roused for a moment to drink greedily, spilling water down his chin. Then he fell back into the bed. He tried to speak but his voice only cracked and induced a fit of coughing.


    A few minutes later an officer strode in. A baby-faced lieutenant with dull eyes. The man¡¯s uniform was tidy, he wore the black and red of an infantry officer. He wore a bicorn hat adorned with an ostrich feather in the newer style and had a shiny sabre at his hip.


    ¡°Who¡¯s this? Why was I pulled away from my bridge game?¡± The lieutenant asked.


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    The sergeant who had brought him in was sitting in a chair opposite the bed, he didn¡¯t rise to salute the officer. The soldier simply gestured to the unconscious man and spoke, his voice grim, ¡°That there is Major John Dryden of the 13<sup>th</sup> Dragoons.¡±


    The lieutenant looked from the sergeant to the man and back again, ¡°Can¡¯t be. They¡¯re in Vurun.¡±


    ¡°They were, but he¡¯s not anymore. He¡¯s right there, use your eyes¡­ sir.¡± He added the sir as an afterthought.


    The man in the bed stirred and tried to speak. He croaked out a name, ¡°Kurush¡­¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s he on about?¡± The officer asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s the first thing he¡¯s said, I don¡¯t rightly know what he¡¯s talking about.¡± The sergeant replied, ¡°Ought to go get the colonel, and maybe Major Havelock, eh Fitz? Sir?¡±


    The young lieutenant gulped, nodded, then turned and ran off to find someone higher ranking.


    It wasn¡¯t long before the lieutenant returned with both Colonel Dansby and Major William Havelock in tow. The sergeant stood and snapped to attention when the older officers entered the room. Dansby was the commander of the garrison at Andaban. He was an old soldier. His face was tanned from the desert sun and bright blue eyes stuck out from behind bushy white eyebrows. Despite his age, he had a certain vigour to him. Havelock was a younger man with a darker complexion, sharp angular features, and a dour face. The colonel came to sit on the edge of the bed. He peered down at the soldier¡¯s face. ¡°Is it truly Major Dryden?¡± He asked, ¡°I only met him once. Havelock, you knew him well, is this the man?¡±


    ¡°It is.¡± Havelock said with certainty, ¡°How he came to be here, and in such a state, I cannot say, but it is indeed Major Dryden.¡±


    ¡°Will¡­¡° The voice croaked from the form of Dryden, ¡°Water¡­¡±


    Another cup of water was offered, Dryden was propped up on a pillow and he drank. Then a bowl of broth was offered by the nurse. The colonel took the spoon from her and fed the man a few sips of the salty clear soup.


    ¡°John. The lieutenant here said you tried to tell him something. What was it?¡± Havelock asked.


    ¡°Kurush.¡± He said, becoming slightly more lucid.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what that means.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s coming¡­ Their leader.¡± The major was able to croak, ¡°An army.¡±


    Colonel Dansby and Major Havelock looked at one another. ¡°An army? We¡¯d have heard of it by now. There¡¯d have been messages, from Vurun.¡±


    ¡°All dead.¡±


    ¡°The messengers?¡± Dansby tried to clarify.


    ¡°The whole army.¡± He croaked between sips. As he drank his voice became clearer, though it was still raspy.


    There was absolute silence in the room. Dansby scoffed, ¡°You¡¯re telling me that three thousand of the King¡¯s Own are dead in Vurun?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    The colonel started to let out a sigh of relief.


    ¡°They¡¯re not dead in Vurun. The dead are scattered across the eastern slopes of the Korum and along the road to Settru Pass. They¡¯re piled up at Golconda where we made our last stand. Three thousand of the King¡¯s Own. Four thousand company mercenaries. Ten thousand sepoys. Not just the soldiers, but the women and children too. Most dead, a few were taken¡­¡± He trailed off in a fit of coughing.


    ¡°Blood and hounds.¡± The colonel swore.


    ¡°What about the enemy army?¡± Havelock asked, ¡°You said they were coming.¡±


    ¡°Twenty thousand cavalry at least. They have a necromancer too, the dead walk with them. When they clear the Settru pass of ice, they¡¯ll come here next. We have weeks at most, Will, perhaps only days.¡±


    The colonel turned, ¡°Sergeant Utley. Take the lieutenant and begin preparing defences. We¡¯ll need every scrap of food, water, and ammo available. Send telegraphs to the garrison at Ythandis. We need every man we can get too. Havelock, I need your Dragoons patrolling out north. I will not be caught by surprise. Oh, before I forget, he said they have a necromancer. Get Annika and her mages to set wards on the cemetery, then dig up every bone you can find and rebury them outside the walls. I don¡¯t want the dead rising inside the city.¡± Then he turned back to Major Dryden who was sitting up in the cot, ¡°Now. Major. Tell me everything. How did the army die? Spare no detail, for I must know the enemy we face.¡±

 Death Is Just Down The Lane

    Chapter One


    Twilight had taken hold of Vurun. The city was bathed in the soft half-light which happens during the fifteen minutes after the sun has set, but before darkness has taken hold. Dust hovered over the horizon, a kind of indigo haze, made by the dust that came from the growing and production of aethium. That indigo colour permeated everything, such was the scale of the magical drug¡¯s production in the valley. Major Dryden sat on his horse. He was leading this evening¡¯s patrol. The third squadron of the 13<sup>th</sup> Dragoons was making its way around the outskirts of the city. It was, perhaps an excessive patrol, but it was intended as a show of force. There were six squads or three companies of the regiment stationed in the city, and another three companies stationed in Andaban on the other side of the Korum mountains. Of course, it wasn¡¯t only the dragoons who were stationed in Vurun. A whole brigade was in there, and another two regiments of V.A.C Company troops beside. It was their job to hold the city, control the population, and make sure the flow of aethium, the magical drug that powered Vastrum¡¯s war wizards, was steady.


    Sergeant Locke rode next to Major Dryden in silence. Somewhere up the line, a horse snorted. The city was quiet. Doors were shut around them. Citizens did not want to be caught out when the 13<sup>th</sup> rode past. The regiment had a reputation in Vurun. The area they rode through now was poorer than most. The buildings were built of mud bricks daubed with more mud and thatched with dry grass. Most of the people here probably worked in one of the several aethium factories nearby. Dryden knew the route through the city well. Though he usually left command of the patrols to the squad¡¯s captain or lieutenant, he occasionally went with them to get a sense of the city. A good officer knew the lay of the land. ¡°You can¡¯t pick good ground if you don¡¯t know what¡¯s what.¡± His old commander had told him often.


    ¡°Oi!¡± Sergeant Locke shouted at someone ahead, ¡°Get that bloody cart out of the street!¡± Locke was a stout man. Short, stocky, black hair, red face, and a furious temper. He rode up and hopped off his horse. ¡°You there! Get that fucking cart out of the fucking road!¡± He shouted at the small old man whose cart it was. He was a sergeant who found obscenities worked best for communication, especially for breaking through language barriers.


    The man had a worried look on his face, and not only because of the furious sergeant bellowing at him. He began to point in the direction they were headed and spoke quickly with an urgent and pleading tone. The man spoke rapidly. The Major turned to his translator who was riding behind him, ¡°Chatham, what¡¯s he saying?¡±


    The translator was a young local man named Chatham. He had the handsome dark face of a local but the bright blue eyes and pale blonde hair common in the West. The young man had a knack for tongues, spoke perfect Vastrish as well as Vuruni, and had been with Major Dryden since he arrived in the province. ¡°Sir, he¡¯s from east of the Shan, it¡¯s a hard dialect to understand. What he¡¯s saying doesn¡¯t make much sense. He¡¯s saying death is coming, and that it is just down the lane here.¡±


    Dryden raised his eyebrow at that.


    Locke was still yelling at the man to get out of the road. He raised his riding crop in a threatening manner. The old man clearly didn¡¯t understand the Western tongue, but his face said he understood the threat.


    ¡°Sergeant.¡± Dryden said dryly and calmly with just a slight air of reproach in his tone, ¡°The wheel is stuck. Perhaps some assistance¡­¡± He let the suggestion trail off.


    Locke turned his fury from the old man and began yelling at nearby troopers to get off their mounts and help the old man with his cart. A minute later the cart¡¯s wheel was free. The tired old mule, the elderly man, and his cart slowly moved along and out of the way.


    The men remounted and the column of cavalry rode slowly on. Their goal had been to make it to one of the small outlying forts around the city by nightfall. The city of Vurun was one of those sprawling cities that had grown slowly over time. It had no walls to protect it. Only a handful of forts stood for its defence. Between several stops and delays, the patrol was coming in late. The sun had set, the sky was turning dark, the stars were coming out, and they would be in the fort in perhaps an hour¡¯s time, provided there were no further delays. This land did not operate on a strict military schedule. Nothing in Vurun ever went to plan, Dryden had found in his two years there.


    ¡°Quiet night,¡± Locke commented, looking up at the first stars. It was perhaps the first comment he had made all day that resembled small talk.


    Almost immediately there came a wretched scream from somewhere out in the darkness of the slums. All heads instinctively turned to look in the direction from which the noise had come.


    ¡°Sergeant Locke, investigate if you please. Take six men.¡± Dryden ordered.


    Lieutenant Brine came riding back from the front of the column, ¡°Sir?¡± The lieutenant was a pale young man of perhaps seventeen. His face was marked by high cheekbones, a weak jawline, and a boyish face. His slightly unkempt long red hair stuck out from under his shako in an almost ungentlemanly way. He had recently purchased his commission. Despite being young he had, thus far, turned out to be a moderately competent officer, at least in the estimation of Lieutenant-Colonel Havor. Dryden wasn¡¯t so sure, not yet.


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    ¡°The sergeant will look into it. Dismount. Form up.¡±


    It was better sometimes to fight on foot, especially in the cramped conditions of the city. Most Vastrum cavalry had transitioned to fight on horseback only. The 13<sup>th</sup> Dragoons were equipped in the old style. They fought mounted with sabres and on foot with carbine rifles. They were deadly with both. You had to be adaptable out here in the colonies.


    Brine turned and repeated the order to Sergeant-Major Flint, a greying veteran of four wars, who began yelling out the orders and getting the men stationed around the road. Meanwhile, Sergeant Locke had picked the closest group of men and they were gearing up to go towards the scream. Rifles and pistols were loaded. Locke pulled a blunderbuss from the holster on his horse¡¯s saddle and loaded it. A useful weapon in close quarters. Then torches and lanterns were lit. The city was covered in the inky blackness of night now. The only light from the huts nearby was the low glow from hearth fires that emanated out of the hovels.


    ¡°All right you bloody bastards.¡± Locke growled to his men, ¡°We¡¯ve a job to do.¡± Then he led the small troop off between two buildings on foot. There was no room in the narrow alleys of these slums for horses to manoeuvre.


    In the low light of their torches, Dryden could just see the grim faces of the men as they departed. As they disappeared into the shadows of the city another scream cut the night. A shiver ran down the Major¡¯s spine. His heart raced. All the men went quiet. Horses whinnied and shifted nervously, including Rosie, Dryden¡¯s bay mare who was normally stout of heart.


    Sergeant Major Flint took up a position next to Major Dryden. He could not see the grizzled sergeant¡¯s face well in the dark, except for the telltale glow of the lit cigar clenched in his teeth. ¡°Men are all in position. We¡¯re arranged on either side of the street and we¡¯ve got positions set up around an intersection about a hundred yards down there.¡± He gestured to the end of the road that led to the fort they had been heading to.


    A musket shot cut the night somewhere out in the slum. Then another. The direction the men had gone. There was another scream and some yelling. Dryden hadn¡¯t the time to react, when several more shots rang out in succession, this time down the line towards the intersection they controlled. ¡°This fucking city.¡± Flint growled, ¡°I¡¯m on it.¡± Then the grizzled sergeant strolled off towards the intersection.


    There was no mistaking it when Sergeant Locke¡¯s blunderbuss roared in the night. Dryden gritted his teeth. Waiting to find out what was happening was the hardest part of command. Giving an order. Seeing your men off into the dark. Hearing the engagement. Waiting for the butcher¡¯s bill. Dryden¡¯s heart was beating as the sounds of fighting grew louder down the street at the intersection. He peered through the night and could see men fighting. Shapes came from the dark, they moved slowly, with a kind of stuttering motion. They fell before the muskets and sabres. It was too dark to make out any details, but Dryden was sure these enemies were not men. He heard yelling in front of him. Then several figures burst from the alley and he heard Locke shouting an incoherent series of curses to his troopers. The blunderbuss fired again into the alley. Seven had been sent, including the sergeant. Dryden counted the living. All seven had returned.


    ¡°Report?¡± His voice was sharper than he meant it to be. Nerves.


    Sergeant Locke snapped to attention as he approached, ¡°I don¡¯t rightly know how to say it, sir.¡± He couldn¡¯t see the man¡¯s face, but his voice had a tenor that the Major had never heard before from him. Was it fear?


    ¡°At ease, Sergeant. Report what you will.¡±


    ¡°Skeletons, sir.¡± The sergeant began reloading his blunderbuss as they spoke.


    ¡°Come again?¡± Dryden asked, he might have laughed, if the situation hadn¡¯t seemed so serious, and if the shapes that had come at his men down the street hadn¡¯t looked so strange and horrible.


    ¡°The dead are walking tonight.¡± The sergeant said, with all the fear and seriousness that such a statement might inspire were it indeed true.


    ¡°As the old man said.¡± Chatham, the translator, added behind him. He was quiet, often shadowing Dryden so well that he forgot he was there.


    ¡°I see.¡± Though he did not truly see, not yet in any case. He knew such things were possible, of course, but he hadn¡¯t ever thought to see them for himself.


    The fighting down at the end of the street came to a blessedly silent halt. The lieutenant arrived soon after. The look on the lieutenant¡¯s face told the major all he needed to know. Before the young man could speak Dryden cut in, ¡°Walking skeletons, Mr. Brine?¡±


    ¡°How did you¡­?¡± He began to ask, then saw Sergeant Locke standing there with his blunderbuss, ¡°Yes, sir, indeed. Just so. Two men wounded, not badly.¡±


    ¡°Three wounded for our part, sir.¡± Locke added, ¡°Not badly. We found some dead civilians. The skeletons were¡­ eating them.¡±


    ¡°Modern weaponry puts them down easily enough, it seems.¡± Brine included.


    ¡°Good. We¡¯ll talk to Mar when we return to The Red Fort. He¡¯ll want to know about this, I¡¯m sure.¡± Dryden said. Mar was the regimental war mage. Most regiments and larger units had detachments of wizards. The 13<sup>th</sup> had just one such mage currently. Theirs was Marten Pyke, who went by Mar. He rarely left the side of Lieutenant-Colonel Havor. He would know what had caused these dead to rise if anyone would.


    ¡°Orders?¡± Brine asked.


    ¡°We head to the fort. Get the wounded men attended to. Then at first light, we head back to HQ with all haste.¡±


    They mounted up quickly and set off once more for the smaller fort. They arrived before midnight. They slept like the dead, resupplied quickly from the fort¡¯s stocks, and let their horses rest.  When the first light peaked over the horizon they turned around and rode quickly back the way they had come. If the dead were rising in Vurun, command needed to know. The sooner the better.

 A Deathly Silence

    Chapter Two


    The squadron arrived back at the Red Fort in late afternoon. The ride back had been decidedly quicker than the trip to the outlying fort. They had hurried, not stopping to rest nearly so often. They had no inspections to make, and no one to speak with. They simply had to return, and quickly. The sun was beating down hotly and the indigo dust that hung over the city was vivid and iridescent in the bright light. The ancient red stone fort dominated the middle of the valley. It had a foreboding look to it, its sharp angular features sat imposing against the ramshackle city. Near it, Shah Guranji¡¯s huge palace was like a gaudy too-large gem adorning a city otherwise clothed in rags. The line of cavalry rode quickly through the cantonments near the fort. The cantonments were a walled-off neighbourhood built with modern housing for the families of the Vastrum soldiers stationed in Vurun. The dragoons came and went so often, that nobody in the cantonment gave them a second glance. The cantonment was clean, the streets well organized and swept, the houses lined in neat rows, totally unlike the rest of the city. It looked almost like someone had taken a neighbourhood from Marrowick, Dryden¡¯s home city, and plopped it down in the middle of Vurun. It made him feel both comfortable, but also dreadfully homesick. Yet it was also uncanny to see it here beneath the indigo haze of this distant land, just set apart from ramshackle hovels and the ancient Red Fort. Then they arrived at that massive fort in the middle of everything, where Vastrum¡¯s army was headquartered. The heavy bronze-studded gates groaned as they opened to welcome the squad of mounted dragoons. Their horses were sweaty and thirsty when they arrived. A small army of stable boys came to take the horses to get them watered, fed, and cleaned. It was one of the perks of being stationed in the main fort and in the city, plenty of servants, mostly locals, were paid to do the work.


    Major Dryden and Lieutenant Brine went immediately up to the offices kept by their commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Jack Havor. He was sitting in his office reading reports. He looked up at them as they arrived. Colonel Havor was a grim man. He was not old, but he was old for a cavalryman. Dryden had heard it said often that a cavalryman older than thirty was either a coward or a blackguard. Havor was in his mid-thirties, and he was certainly no coward. Dryden did not think Havor a scoundrel either. Dryden himself was nearing 30, he hoped he did not fall into either category, but soon the saying would apply to him as well. Havor¡¯s face was handsome, with a hard jawline and a strong chin. He had bright blue eyes and short-cropped black hair. He was not the tidiest officer, the collar of his coat was often open a button or two more than was regulation. Nobody questioned it, not even General Belfair, who was usually a stickler for appearances. Havor often seemed to be staring into the distance, even here in his office where there was nothing further away than the door to look upon. It wasn¡¯t the kind of stare that some old soldiers got who seemed to be looking at nothing at all. It was more like he was staring out at a vast horizon that nobody else could see. Nobody, that is, but the wizard Mar.


    The mage was a young man, few war wizards lived long. He had pale skin, almost to the point of albinism, though he was not albino. Two bright golden eyes peeked out behind dark eyebrows above a hooked nose. His hair was short and dark, and his chin was covered in a perpetual five o¡¯clock shadow. To Dryden, he had the look of someone from Kalhovn or the Free Cities, rather than that of a man of Vastrum. He frowned, ¡°Skeletons, you say?¡± Mar replied curtly when they gave their report.


    The colonel said nothing, but his jaw clenched, ¡°Third incident since yesterday as I understand it. Yours is the first one that I would consider reliable. One came from a local ataman down there.¡± Havor gestured in the vague direction of the lower city. ¡°Another came from a drunken trooper. The general brushed off the sightings as delusion. I did too, if I am to be honest. We can hardly do so now.¡±


    ¡°Just so, sir.¡± Mar interjected, ¡°If I may, I have some questions. Have the wounded troopers shown any worrying signs? Were any of them bitten?¡±


    ¡°Yes, at least two were bitten, but no sir. They¡¯re recovering nicely.¡± Brine answered, ¡°You should speak to the surgeon, in any case. We bandaged them up, but he¡¯s treating them now.¡±


    Mar nodded, ¡°That¡¯s good. They would have turned by now if this were infectious, as I understand it. That happened at the siege of Caribonne, some decades past. I will speak to the surgeon presently. There are then two possibilities as I see them. Either this is a natural occurrence, it might happen in these parts due to aethium in the soil, or the valley has been cursed by a necromancer. I daresay it is likely the former, but we must not discount the possibility of the latter. We need evidence.¡±


    ¡°What would such evidence look like?¡± The colonel asked, ¡°And how would we uncover it?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t the foggiest,¡± Mar answered.


    ¡°You¡¯re the wizard, you ought to know,¡± Havor replied, clearly annoyed.


    Mar rolled his eyes, ¡°My knowledge is limited by my education, as anyone else¡¯s. I did not attend a scholomance. I attended The King¡¯s Academy for the Arcane Arts. I know only of necromancy what little my experience in the field has taught. If you want these skeletons shattered by forceful invocation, then I¡¯m your warlock. Just give me a pouch full of aethium and point me like a cannon. For the blacker arts, you¡¯ll need an altogether different sort of wizard. Perhaps a Jirimanjin blood witch or a Dravani soul-catcher.¡±


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    Dryden sighed. In the service, you never quite had what you needed to do the job that lay before you. There were few enough wizards here with the army, and all of them were battle mages like Mar, trained to wield occult catalysts, such as the indigo powder aethium, to destroy the King¡¯s enemies. If this was a curse, there would be no lifting it any time soon. These experts that Mar had mentioned were found in faraway southern colonies, and getting one here would take six months at least. On the other hand, if it were a natural event, they would simply have to weather it like any storm. The difference was only an intellectual pursuit at this point. For the men on the ground, it meant little.


    The colonel rang a bell. A servant entered the room and bowed. ¡°Tea, if you please.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sahib.¡± The servant was a man named Rathma. He wasn¡¯t a local Vuruni. He was from the far southern colonies, somewhere near Dravan. He was small, lithe, almost feminine, with a narrow face. He had the darkest skin, hair, and eyes that Dryden had ever seen. Beyond the normally dark brown skin found among the Dravani, his appearance was nearly that of coal. Someone in the regiment had joked once that he was like the colonel¡¯s shadow, and it was true. He¡¯d been Colonel Havor¡¯s servant since well before the 13<sup>th</sup> Dragoons had been stationed in Vurun, and rarely left his side. He was a good man, quiet, attentive, and clever. Good with a knife in a scrap. Above all he was loyal.


    ¡°Will the masters be taking sugar or cream?¡± The little man asked. The question was merely a formality. He already knew very well how each of them took their tea. He served them daily.


    ¡°None for me, thank you,¡± Mar answered politely.


    ¡°Cream for me,¡± Dryden answered.


    ¡°Sugar and cream, if you please.¡± Brine requested.


    Havor didn¡¯t answer, he simply waved his hand to dismiss the man. Rathma already knew well that he took his tea black.


    ¡°Well, Dryden, I look forward to reading your report. I¡¯m sure it will be scintillating.¡± His tone said he was very much not looking forward to reading any reports. Havor was not a man happy behind a desk. Safe back at the rear in the fort is exactly where Havor¡¯s lordly father wanted him to be. He¡¯d arranged a promotion to lieutenant colonel despite his protests. Dryden supposed his commander would have preferred to remain a captain where he could gallantly lead his men, outflanking enemies, charging in, and violently riding down the enemy. Reading and writing reports were the last thing he wanted, and yet he was good at it, which made it all the worse for him as his commanders and generals had come to rely heavily upon this skill of his.


    Afterwards, they chatted about the state of the regiment. The horses were in fine condition. A mare was pregnant. A horse had gone lame. Some of the mounts needed re-shoeing. One of the stable boys had been kicked by a horse, though he would be fine. The men themselves were in high spirits despite the new threat of undead. They were looking forward to getting weekend passes in a few nights, to go out on the town where they could get drunk, find whores, gamble, and carouse. Dryden wished he could join them, but of course, these were ungentlemanly pursuits. Joining in was unbecoming of his station. They had the officer¡¯s club in the fort of course, but there were no women and no gambling¡ªonly gentlemen sitting around drinking sherry, smoking cigars, and grumbling about the state of the colonies.


    Tea arrived shortly. Rathma brought a set of small scones served with butter and marmalade. They were only halfway done with tea when there was a knock at the door. Rathma opened it and stood aside. Brigadier General Belfair strode into the room followed by some corporal, an adjutant that Dryden didn¡¯t recognize. Belfair was a big man, heavy set. He was dressed in his black uniform with white and red highlights and shiny gold buttons. He had too many medals pinned to his chest. He walked in and stood across the Havor looking down at him with a kind of hungry look. He pointed to the scones, ¡°May I?¡±


    Everyone jumped to salute except Havor. Havor gestured to the plate as if nothing could have concerned him less. ¡°To what do we owe the pleasure?¡±


    The general ignored the rest of the officers in the small office which was now even more cramped for the presence of the bulky Brigadier. He stared down at Havor who had yet to stand or salute him.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got orders.¡± The general said with a sneer, ¡°You¡¯re going north.¡± He held out a letter to the colonel. ¡°We¡¯ve heard nothing from Zundak in two weeks.¡± When Jack didn¡¯t take the orders he added, ¡°These orders are from General Blackwater, not me. I¡¯m just the bearer of the good news.¡±


    Havor hesitated a moment more before taking the orders. Dryden knew that Belfair and Havor hated one another. Their families hated one another as well. They were both from old blood, the nobility that predated Vastrum itself. It was once said both their families had been kings of rival nations in the old times five hundred years ago. Time had not diminished the hate. Only their sense of duty to Vastrum and the King kept any semblance of civility.


    The orders delivered, Belfair grinned wickedly. Only then did he salute the other officers that were standing at attention, before turning and striding out the officer door, his corporal in tow.


    Once he was gone everyone sighed in relief, and the tension lifted. Havor handed the letter to Dryden. The envelope was sealed with Blackwater¡¯s wax stamp. He cracked the seal, pulled out the letter, and read it aloud.


    ¡°General Lord Blackwater directs Lieutenant-Colonel Lord Havor to take the 13<sup>th</sup> Dragoons north to the fort at Zundak with all haste. There he is to investigate why there has been no communication in two weeks. Further, he should investigate the status of the northern pass across the Shan mountains at Zundak. Also, if enemy present, he is not to engage but return to Vurun and make his report directly. It is signed by General Blackwater.¡± Dryden read the orders dryly.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± Mar said under his breath, though his accent made it sound more like ¡°Fack.¡±


    ¡°So I guess no passes for going out on the town?¡± Lieutenant Brine asked. He knew the answer.


    ¡°The men won¡¯t like that one bit,¡± Dryden added, stating the obvious.


    Havor¡¯s face said he didn¡¯t like it either, ¡°Dryden, be so good as to tell the rest of the officers. Prepare the men and horses. We ride at dawn.¡±

 The Lord of the Storm

    Chapter Three


    The full strength of the 13<sup>th</sup> Dragoons in Vurun rode out the next morning just before dawn. The sky was just beginning to brighten and turn a kind of orange hazy colour. It was a week¡¯s ride to Zundak in good conditions and another week to ride back. The men had been on countless patrols in the last six months with few breaks. News that they would have to wait another two weeks, at least, to get their night on the town did not go over well. They were tired and saddle-sore already. The horses were somehow in better condition than the men. First, they rode through the cantonment, the slice of the city around the fort and palace that was made up to look just like home. They rode through the gates there and then out into the higher-class part of the city with shops that catered to the colonizers. Finally, they rode on through the main bulk of the city which stretched along the river north of the fort. They passed hovels and mud brick houses for what seemed like ages. It took two hours of riding in their column for the lead elements of the column to finally come to the edge of the sprawling city. The change was not sudden, there were no city walls for defence there. Gradually the houses thinned and turned to farmland. They passed one of the outlying forts as they rode away from the city. Eyes of Vastrum soldiers on the walls in their black and red jackets, and sepoys in their white and black uniforms, watched the cavalry column pass by in silence.


    Then they were out in the country, surrounded by farms and short stubby trees that lined the road north. The road was old and at one time it had been well paved. The cobbles had not been maintained, so the road was now difficult and bumpy. Old wheel ruts for carts were carved down the middle of the road, but few carts came this way anymore and dry weeds grew up between the old cobbles. Dryden had taken this path up to Zundak three times before. He hated the road. Every time they rode it horses went lame. It was a cruel road for the horses, and that was something Dryden hated especially. It was the kind of thing the Generals rarely considered, least of all these generals. The cost of a few horses was little to men like Blackwater and Belfair. His own horse Rosie, was sturdy and well-shod. Even she struggled with the road.


    By midday the weather was sweltering. Even in autumn, the heat of this land could kill a man or a horse if they didn¡¯t take proper care to water themselves. It was no accident that the road to the north didn¡¯t stray far from the river. They stopped at midday to let the horses drink and take some rest from the heat in a stand of trees. It was no easy feat to make sure all the horses were able to drink. It took them longer than Dryden had wanted, but by early afternoon they were off again in the blistering sun. This slowness was common here in the valley.


    At one point they came up over a rise and the view almost took Dryden¡¯s breath away. The city in the distance blanketed the bottom of the valley. Snowcapped peaks loomed behind Vurun. Before him were endless indigo fields where the aethium flowers bloomed. All of it was covered in a violet haze. The indigo dust of the valley combined with the sweat of the men and horses and in the sun everything and everyone took on an almost iridescent sheen.


    The Major¡¯s reverie was broken by one of the younger lieutenants, one Mr Palfrey, who rode up and saluted crisply, ¡°Sir, the lead squad is entering into Ladash now.¡± Ladash was a village along the road, and usually the first stop for the night when heading north out of Vurun. Palfrey was a wispy youth who was barely old enough to serve. His parents had purchased a lower commission. This was a boy, not a soldier. He knew that Havor probably had seen him quite the same way when he had first been commissioned himself. ¡°Very good, Mr. Palfrey. See that our horses are quartered for the night. Set pickets around the town. Find a good billet for the lieutenant colonel, he likes that big house on the north end. As for feeding the horses, there should be some good pasture just southeast of the town.¡± Then he saluted in return and the man went riding off back to the front of the long column. This was not the first time coming through here, they knew the land well. The villagers were cooperative too, at least those who lived on the road and were accustomed to the soldiers coming through regularly.


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    The regiment continued up the valley by the river. While the cavalry themselves moved quickly, supplies came behind slowly in carts that bumped along the poorly maintained road. They were packed light for patrol, but even so, there were substantial baggage trains needed when the full regiment was on the move. Havor and Mar rode up from the rear as they were coming into the village of Ladash. ¡°All is well?¡± The colonel asked.


    Dryden saluted. ¡°Indeed, sir. Speak with Mr. Palfrey for your billet, sir.¡±


    ¡°I want the big house on the north side of town. I like the view from the porch.¡± He said idly, then he turned to Rathma, who was riding just behind him silent as ever, ¡°Ride ahead and prepare it for me.¡± Rathma rode off quickly without a word.


    Fifteen minutes later they were in the town. As they rode in, Dryden could see few locals. A child or two peeked out from inside darkened doorways. There were no women to be seen, they understandably made themselves scarce when soldiers rolled through. A few older men from the village were standing around watching.


    Palfrey strode up quickly when he saw the cadre of officers arrive, ¡°Sir. I¡¯ve got you billeted in the house over¡­¡± He began to point to the house that Havor had wanted.


    ¡°Yes, yes.¡± The colonel waved off the eager young officer, ¡°Where¡¯s Chatham?¡± He turned and shouted. Everyone looked around in silent confusion, ¡°Chatham? I need my damn translator!¡±


    Chatham came riding up from behind, ¡°Here, sir.¡± He hopped off his mount.


    ¡°I need to speak to these men.¡± He gestured to the elders of the village.


    ¡°Very good, sir. What do you want me to tell them?¡±


    ¡°Thank them for their generosity. Tell them they will be compensated for the food and housing they provide. Ask them if they¡¯ve heard anything from the north.¡± Havor said politely.


    Chatham translated. The elders nodded silently and smiled. They were perfectly happy to take payment, Dryden knew. Most armies wouldn¡¯t have paid, they merely would have taken what they needed with violence, or the threat of it. However, when Chatham got to the third point, the villagers went silent and looked at one another nervously. From their body language, it was obvious that someone knew something. One of them shook his head and began to speak with Chatham. There was a back-and-forth for a while.


    Chatham turned back to Jack and relayed what the villagers had said, ¡°The old man is the hetman here. He said they¡¯ve heard things, but nothing that makes sense to me. He says a storm is coming, and it is here for us, for Vastrum. They are worried about taking us in. They say that the storm might punish them too.¡±


    ¡°Storm? What storm?¡± Havor scoffed. There wasn¡¯t a cloud in the sky.


    ¡°Not that kind of storm, sir.¡±


    ¡°Well, what bloody kind of storm is it, man? Can¡¯t anybody say what they bloody well mean in this damned country?¡± Jack was nearly shouting, ¡°The dead are walking, some storm is coming, tell that man to say what he means or I¡¯ll shoot him dead on this damned spot.¡±


    Chatham winced and relayed the message. The men spoke back and forth more. There were hurried hushed tones. The translator turned back to the colonel, ¡°Sir. He says he doesn¡¯t want to say. He will be punished if he says. He is afraid of you. He is afraid of this storm. Sir, I think the storm is a man.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± Jack retrieved his pistol and began loading it with powder.


    ¡°Sir, what are you doing?¡± Dryden hissed at him.


    The lieutenant colonel continued loading his pistol. He finished loading and levelled his pistol at the man. The old leathery-skinned villager stood frozen to the spot. ¡°Tell him to tell me, who is the storm? This is his last chance.¡±


    The man shook as Chatham relayed the message. He whispered something back.


    Chatham turned back to Havor, ¡°The name of the storm is Kurush. Kurush An-Beya. He is Lord of the Winds, and of the lands beyond the Shan mountains, he says this man, Kurush, is the rightful king in Vurun, and that he is coming to take back his birthright.¡±


    ¡°Oh, is that all?¡± Was all Havor said in reply, and he put his pistol away.

 Zundak

    Chapter Four


    It had taken ten long days to travel from Vurun to Zundak. Once they knew they had an enemy they went cautiously from village to village. They¡¯d had more of the same information from the other villages as they¡¯d had from the elder of Ladash. Most of what they heard were rumours. An army to the east of the Shan mountains. Riders seen at the passes. A storm was coming. The storm was coming. Winter was coming too, and the snow with it, snows that would blow for months and bury the upper passes of the Shan and the Korum mountain ranges that bracketed the valley of Vurun and the city. Both ranges ran north-south. The Shan was to the east. The Korum to the west. While there were numerous smaller passes through these mountains, there were only a few passes by which an army could cross.


    Now they were on a ridge that overlooked Zundak, the name of both the fort and the village that surrounded it. The ridge gave them as good a vantage as they would get. Most of the regiment was encamped just behind the ridge, which gave them good cover from the wind that blew down from the mountains. The officers stood together watching the fort. Both Colonel Havor and Captain Pugh were looking through spyglasses. The fort was one of many ancient forts that dotted the land. It was built long ago by another empire that had conquered this place. Now it stood dark and foreboding on a hill above the valley, covering the lonely road that led east through the Shan Mountains and Zundak Pass.


    ¡°Nothing. Not a sentry on the walls. Nothing but birds. A trap?¡± Pugh asked dryly. Then handed the lens to Dryden.


    ¡°Even the village is empty.¡± Havor agreed, ¡°Maybe. If it¡¯s an ambush it¡¯s well disguised. Send a few scouts in. Local boys. Don¡¯t want to risk our own men for this.¡± There was a small detachment of local irregulars that rode with the company on longer patrols, just for this sort of thing. They knew the valley better than the Vastrum men and were usually used as outriders or messengers.


    Dryden looked through the glass. The town was really just a few ramshackle huts around the base of the fort. Havor was right too, it appeared completely deserted. There should have been women carrying water from the well down the hill, and a few men working the fields on the hills below. There should at least have been a few village dogs or goats grazing somewhere. All he saw were crows and vultures. Vultures were never a good sign. The fort too should have been active. Even a few sentries on the wall. It was concerning, to say the least, that there were none. He put down the spyglass and turned to Lieutenant Wolcott, ¡°You heard the colonel. Send out scouts. Ready the men, if this is an ambush¡­ ¡° He trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence. ¡°Quick as you can, please.¡± Wolcott ran down the hill to obey his orders. They would be ready for it. He turned back and handed the spyglass back to Captain Pugh.


    Havor put down his spyglass and closed it up, then handed it back to his manservant Rathma who was quietly standing behind him. Then he turned to Mar, the regimental wizard, ¡°We may have need of you today.¡± He nodded to the grim-faced wizard.


    Mar simply shrugged, sat on a nearby rock, reached into his pouch, and began rolling a cigarette. He added his tobacco and then pulled out a small vial of indigo powder. Aethium. The dust that hung like a haze over the valley. The product of the fields of flowers that grew only here. The reason for innumerable conquests that had swept Vurun century after century down through the ages. It was not the only such substance in the world, but it was by far the best, at least for making war. Mar sprinkled a hefty amount in his cigarette along with his tobacco, whetted the paper with his tongue, and finished rolling it. Once that was done he rested it between his lips, lit it with a match, closed his eyes, and took a slow drag from it. He sighed as he did so, a faint smile playing at the edge of his mouth. When his eyes opened again, his pupils had dilated and his face had a look of absolute ease and relaxation upon it. ¡°I¡¯m ready when you are.¡± Mar¡¯s voice was strangely deep, vibrating Dryden¡¯s chest and echoing around them as if his words were being spoken directly into his soul. This happened whenever Mar took the powder, and all the officers had experienced it before, but it was no less unsettling now than the first time. The effect of the narcotic would last several hours, and Mar had a ready supply of it.


    They watched for several more minutes through the spyglass for any sign of ambush. They found none. Then they retreated down the hill to where the men were readying. A few of the irregulars were mounted up and just riding off up the road to scout the town and fort when the officers arrived back. The whole camp was in action as men mounted horses and organized into formation for marching. The slowest part of the whole affair were the baggage trains, servants, and attendants who would be riding behind them slowly with their equipment. It only took perhaps fifteen minutes for the whole regiment, servants and camp followers excluded, to be ready to move. Then they were off again. Dryden went to the front to ride with Lieutenant Brine¡¯s vanguard. Ahead he could see dust being kicked up where the outriders were moving up the valley to the fort quickly. It was less than an hour later when the first scout returned.


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    ¡°Report,¡± Dryden commanded.


    The man rode a small horse, more like a pony, he was young with a wispy beard and had the light brown skin of a Vuruni. He spoke a little of the Vastrum tongue, ¡°Sahib, no ambush. All dead.¡±


    ¡°No survivors at all?¡±


    ¡°No. All dead, sahib.¡± He repeated, ¡°You come see.¡±


    Dryden nodded to Wolcott, ¡°I¡¯ll go ahead. Sergeant Locke, why don¡¯t you bring that blunderbuss and join me? Pick a dozen men. We¡¯ll ride ahead and see if what this man says is true.¡±


    The sergeant simply chose the nearest dozen. There were grumbles, but no complaints were voiced loudly. Not with Major Dryden sitting right next to them. He didn¡¯t blame them, though. Bad luck was the only reason they were with him. Fifteen men. Dryden, Locke, the scout, and twelve troopers. Then they were off. They went at a canter the rest of the way up the valley. Before they arrived at the fort the valley narrowed almost to a canyon. It was a perfect spot to ambush them, but no enemy appeared. They slowed to climb up the road out of the bottom of the ravine, and then the fort was almost on top of them at the top of the ridge line. Below it were those few mud-brick homes that were called a village. All was quiet. Not a soul stirred here. Silence lay on the town like a shroud. They came around the small street to find two more scouts standing at the open gates of the stone fortress waiting for them. One of them pointed inside and said something in Vuruni.


    The scout translated, ¡°He says: dead inside.¡±


    Dryden didn¡¯t need to be told. He could smell it. It was the smell of burned wood and rotting flesh. One of the soldiers retched behind him as they approached the gate. He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and held it to his face to block the smell. It didn¡¯t help. The smell permeated everything. The gates loomed before him. He knew what was waiting inside. They all knew. The horses whinnied and refused to go into the fort. Even Rosie refused.


    ¡°Dismount, we¡¯ll go on foot.¡± He said to the men.


    They entered the fort cautiously. The men went in with their carbines loaded and at the ready. Sergeant Locke held his blunderbuss in the crook of his arm. Dryden advanced with his sword drawn. The scouts stayed outside. In the middle of the square was a blackened pile of burned corpses. A pyre had been built, upon which there were many dozens of burned bodies. It was impossible to make out any detail or identify anyone in particular. They knew who the dead were; they were the garrison of Zundak. Dryden would also see that there had been a bloody fight before the burning. Dry blood, weapons, and scorch marks were scattered across the courtyard.


    ¡°Locke, secure the fort if you please. Send a man back to report this to Lieutenant-Colonel Havor too. Make it one of our own boys. Quickly now.¡±


    Dryden pointed to the two burliest-looking troopers, ¡°You¡¯re with me. I¡¯m going to search the keep.¡± He could have sent Locke, but he refused to give the hard jobs to others unless necessary. It was Dryden¡¯s estimation that leaders who did so were the worst kind of gentlemen.


    Inside the keep was dark and silent. The two big men followed him down the stone halls of the ancient structure. He made his way quickly to the old commander¡¯s offices to look for anything he could bring back to report, logs, a journal, a message, anything. It did not take him long. He had only been to Zundak a handful of times, but he remembered the way through the maze of hallways in the keep. The fort had been looted of valuables, but those who had sacked the fortress had not lingered, and didn¡¯t seem to care for books and letters. He found the logs of the fort in the commander¡¯s old office. The silverware had all been taken, the coffers of the pay chest of the fort were gone, but all the books and logs and letters were untouched. Dryden opened the logbook to the last entry.


    To whomever finds this: We are besieged. Riders have been sent for help. We can only hope that help arrives soon, but if you are reading this, we failed to hold out. A great host of eastern horsemen has risen against us. Merely a small portion of them are here at Zundak. The storm is coming, that is what the Vuruni call it. Our agent in Unkabi has warned us of this warlord, Kurush An-Beya. He commands all the horse lords of the east and the north. Many in Vurun are loyal to him. Beware the Fyrin officer that rides with him. Word of this must reach the army at Vurun. The fate of every Vastrum man, woman, and child in the colonies rests upon it. Tell them. Tell Blackwater and Belfair. They must be made to understand or we are all dead men.


    -Captain Crakehavn, V.A.C., Commander of Zundak

 Good For Morale

    Chapter Five


    ¡°What a spanking filly she is!¡± Captain Baker exclaimed. Dryden and a small group of young officers of the regiment watched the young Lady Belfair riding her horse at a full gallop across the parade grounds in the middle of the cantonments.


    Dryden could not honestly be sure the man wasn¡¯t referring to the young woman rather than the horse she was riding on. He knew he should reprimand the Captain, the comment was ungentlemanly, and yet Dryden agreed with him on either count. The young woman was someone he had admired from afar. He felt she was quite out of his league, her father being a lord, a brigadier general, and ultimately his commanding officer.


    It had been a bit more than two weeks on the road and they were all feeling quite pent up. Dryden, while he held himself to a high standard, felt that a long leash often suited the men under his own command better.


    They had returned from the long patrol two days prior, and those days had been filled with paperwork and debriefings. The nights had been filled with nightmares of the burned bodies piled high in Zundak. This was the first chance most of them had had to get out and put their minds to something different. It was nearly impossible to unwind properly, however, with the knowledge that their enemies were practically at the gates.


    After the fort, Captain Pugh had taken his company of horse up to the pass at Zundak. A few enemy scouts had fled at their advance, and Pugh had personally seen the enemy army encamped below in the plains on the other side of the low pass. The 13<sup>th</sup> Dragoons had beat a hasty retreat, not wanting to be caught out, and made it back to the safety of the lower valley before the enemy could respond. When they returned to the city, they had delivered Captain Crakehavn¡¯s message and told the generals what they had seen. Their report had been met with consternation, a lot of harrumphing, and much doubt about the size of the force. General Blackwater had specifically called such reports ¡°pishery-pashery¡±. They were concerned, of course, for the destruction of the garrison at Zundak, but it was waved off as having been mostly sepoys who were lost. They called it the work of brigands. The dead officers were the main concern. Havor had spoken in grave terms to them, but the two generals were as unmovable as the great mountain ranges that surrounded Vurun.


    Two of the young women who were riding, Lady Belfair and Lady Julia Gorst were now racing and laughing across the grounds on their mares. Lady Helena Belfair was dark-haired, with a strong chin and, furious bright eyes like her father, but the soft lady-like cheeks and nose of her mother. Lady Gorst was the daughter of Colonel Marcus Gorst, known as Lord Gorst. She was red-haired and strikingly beautiful, or so Dryden thought. They were both riding their horses in an un-lady-like manner and though Dryden did not approve, he knew there was no sense speaking to either of them about decorum. They¡¯d simply laugh and he¡¯d look foolish. Looking foolish was not something he cared to do around Lady Gorst.


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    A deep rumbling voice boomed behind them. Dryden cringed. It was The Brigadier, Lord Belfair, ¡°What¡¯s this I hear about spanking fillies?¡± He put an arm around Captain Baker¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Indeed sir, yes.¡± Baker coughed, ¡°The horses.¡±


    ¡°The horses, yes, what the devil else should you be talking about? I bought Helena that horse last summer for her birthday.¡± The horse was indeed exceptional. It was tall and proud and jet black with a long flowing mane behind it. He grinned at the young man. Then he slipped his arm down from Baker¡¯s shoulder and turned, ¡°Dryden, is Havor about?¡±


    ¡°No sir. I¡¯m not sure where he¡¯s off to.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Well, I think we¡¯ve got just the thing to solve these troubles, my boy.¡±


    Dryden assumed he was speaking of Zundak and the army heading towards Vurun, ¡°Indeed?¡±


    ¡°Yes, the Shah and General Blackwater are intending to host a ball at the Shah¡¯s palace. Should get morale up, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°Sir?¡± Dryden asked, confused.


    ¡°A ball. A party. Dancing.¡± Belfair explained as if Dryden were an idiot.


    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­¡± Dryden trailed off.


    ¡°It¡¯s a coming out party for the young ladies, I expect you all to be there in good spirits. I expect all young gentlemen of good breeding to attend.¡± He patted Baker on the back and peered at Dryden as one might inspect a horse they were thinking of buying, ¡°Yes, very good. As you were. Then he walked off as abruptly as he had arrived.


    Dryden didn¡¯t feel like watching any more horse riding. Neither did the other officers. He went to find Lieutenant Colonel Havor to tell him the good news. He found his commander in his office sitting with Mar and Lieutenant Wolcott.


    ¡°A fucking cotillion?¡± Havor shouted, ¡°We¡¯re about to be in the fight of our bloody lives and Blackwater is putting on a fucking cotillion?¡± He looked as if he wanted to sweep everything from his desk and storm from the room, but to his credit, he merely sat back down and fumed silently.


    Mar reached down to a box next to the desk and pulled out a bottle, ¡°Sherry?¡± He lifted the bottle and waggled it around enticingly.


    Havor shook his head and waved it off.


    Mar shrugged and tucked the bottle back into the box where he had found it.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Dryden asked.


    ¡°What can we do?¡± Havor replied, ¡°We do our duty. We polish our shoes, press our shirts, put on our very best dress uniforms, make ourselves as dashing as possible, and then dance with the general¡¯s daughter.¡±


    ¡°Sir¡­¡± Dryden tried to protest.


    Havor cut him off sharply, ¡°We do it as if King Victus gave us the order his-bloody-self. Even if he tells us to dance like monkeys and wear bananas for hats. Duty. Honour. You have those, I assume?¡±


    All Dryden could do was snap to attention and salute his commanding officer, ¡°Sir.¡±

 The King鈥檚 Own

    Chapter Six


    Havor, Dryden, Pugh, Brine, and Wolcott went together as a group to the ball. They walked from the fort through the cantonment and up towards the Shah¡¯s palace which formed a kind of complex with the Vastrum residency and a few governmental buildings that neighbored it. Some of the officers had decided to arrive in carriages or to ride up on horseback. Havor¡¯s small cadre arrived later than was generally fashionable. This was a rare night that the servants of the officers had been given to themselves, so Rathma and the translator Chatham were not with them. Mar, not being technically an officer, and not of particularly good breeding, had also managed to weasel his way out of the event and was likely out on the town whoring and drinking with the war wizards from other regiments.


    The palace of the Shah was enormous and utterly lavish. The fa?ade of the building was made of marble, with huge pillars and a grand staircase adorned with gardens and fountains made to look like huge waterfalls flowing down to large pools containing brightly coloured fish. It was lavish even by the standards of Vastrum nobility. It would have been gaudy even if it were King Victus¡¯ own pleasure palace.


    The Shah¡¯s name was Guranji An-Dakal. He was in his fifties and had spent much of his youth as an exile in the southern colonies. He had been the heir to the throne of Vurun, and when his father had been deposed by rebels, he had fled into the safe and waiting arms of Vastrum. When opportunity arose, the armies of Vastrum had marched north, killed the usurper, taken Vurun, and placed Guranji onto his throne. Trade in aethium flowed. So did money, straight from The Company and into both Vastrum¡¯s and Guranji¡¯s coffers. It was good business for The Company and Vastrum. It was good business for Guranji and his allies. It was bad business for the poor folk of Vurun. It could have been good for them too, Dryden mused. They could have built schools or libraries, but instead, Guranji had built a gaudy pleasure palace with the aethium-tainted gold.


    The whole enterprise in Vurun hinged on this one man. Guranji, their ally. He gave them an air of legitimacy. A man whose family had ruled Vurun for two hundred years. A man who could trace his lineage in the city back a thousand more. There were others they could have used, but he was especially cooperative. It was in his best interest to maintain the status quo, even while his people starved in the streets. Without him, their place in Vurun didn¡¯t bear thinking about.


    The cavalry officers entered the grand hall. A footman announced the officers in turn as they went in.


    ¡°Lieutenant-Colonel Lord Jackson Havor of Coldbridge!¡± He was the first son and heir of his father, the Earl of Coldbridge.


    ¡°The Honourable Major John Dryden, son of Lord Dryden of Starlington!¡± The rest of the officers with them were all ¡°Honourable¡± being that their fathers were minor lords. None of them had come as an escort or come with any women to the party. They were all young unspoken for cavalrymen. Except for Havor, they were second or third sons. They were from families with means but with little themselves. They were strangers in a faraway land. They were also among the most eligible young Vastrum men in this colony, so far from their home.


    The inside of the palace was perhaps more lavish than the exterior. It was brightly lit by huge crystal chandeliers and was richly appointed with brightly coloured carpets and silk-upholstered furniture. The grand banquet hall in the centre had a glass skylight, a fountain, and several palm trees growing out of a kind of garden in the middle. By the time they arrived at the banquet hall dinner was already winding down and a buffet had been laid out for latecomers. Most guests had already gone to the ballroom to dance and the sound of violin and chatting voices could be heard somewhere else in the palace.


    Dryden went to get some food from the buffet. Havor found a table that had not yet been cleaned by servants, sat down, leaned back, and put his boots upon it. The rest of the officers went with Dryden to get food. Dryden inspected the lavish dishes that were put out, huge roasts of meat, foods in spicy sauces he barely recognized, and dishes piled with seafood.


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    ¡°Salmon?¡± Pugh leaned in, ¡°There¡¯s not a wild salmon within ten thousand miles of Vurun. Where the bloody hell did they get this?¡± He asked as he piled some on his plate.


    Dryden shrugged, ¡°Raw oysters too. We¡¯re a thousand miles from the sea. We¡¯ve got dead rising, an enemy army coming in from the north, and they¡¯re bringing in seafood.¡± His voice grew contemptuous. He found he wasn¡¯t hungry anymore, put his empty plate on a nearby table, and walked back to Havor.


    ¡°Nothing to your liking?¡± Havor asked.


    ¡°Seafood turns my stomach.¡± He replied, then turned to a passing servant who was carrying some bottles of fizzy white wine, ¡°We¡¯ll have some of that if you please.¡±


    The servant poured each of them a small glass and tried to walk away. Havor stopped him, ¡°Leave the bottle.¡± Then, ¡°Got anything stronger?¡±


    ¡°No sahib. Only wine.¡±


    ¡°Fine, just bring us another bottle, boy.¡±


    The servant, who was not a young man, hurried off to find another bottle for the colonel. As they were drinking and sulking at the table Brigadier-General Belfair seemingly appeared from nowhere. ¡°Stay seated, stay seated, at ease, I won¡¯t rest on protocol, not tonight. Enjoying the party are we?¡± His corpulent face grinned at them.


    ¡°Indeed, sir. We were just toasting the 13<sup>th</sup> Dragoons and to the King¡¯s Own 7<sup>th</sup> brigade.¡± Havor answered quickly.


    ¡°Splendid, splendid, very good. I fully expect to see you, Major Dryden, out on the dance floor before the night is through. Well then, as you were.¡± They all breathed a sigh as he marched off.


    After he was gone Lieutenant Brine laughed, ¡°Better go dance with the general¡¯s daughter, then. Off you pop.¡±


    The rest of the men laughed as Dryden blushed, but he finished his wine in a single swig, stood, and said, ¡°Duty calls, gentlemen.¡± Then went to find the ballroom.


    It was hardly difficult to locate. Sounds of violin and harpsichord wafted through the cool air of the palace. He walked past grand pillars and gardens and into the great ballroom. The room was enormous, it seemed they could have fit the whole of the fort of Zundak inside it. Tall palm trees ringed the dance floor which was filled with officers and ladies and the court of the Shah engaged in a waltz.


    Dryden felt a presence behind him. It was Pugh, ¡°Couldn¡¯t let you go it alone.¡± He smiled reassuringly.


    Somewhere in the throng of dancers, Dryden heard a delighted laugh and he saw the bright blonde hair of Lady Belfair. She was dancing with a black-clad Company officer. Dryden recognized him in passing but didn¡¯t know the man, he made a point not to associate with mercenaries. The dance ended and the partygoers made their way off the dance floor to mingle. Dryden found the young Lady Belfair amongst a small circle of young infantry lieutenants. He approached her, bowed, and asked, ¡°May I have the next dance, Miss Belfair.¡±


    Now that she turned to him he could see that her attire was stunning. Her ball gown was made of shimmering blue silk from the southern colonies. She was adorned with purple jewels that would have been the envy of royalty. She smiled at him from behind a brightly coloured lacquered fan as she waved it to cool herself. ¡°I¡¯d be delighted.¡± She replied.


    The music began again, a lively song, and Dryden led her to the dance floor. He was enchanted by the young woman. He was not the best dancer in the world, but with her, he felt that he was. He led, rather mechanically, but she knew precisely how to respond. She was an incredible dancer, smooth, precise, and above all graceful. The music faded into the background and there was only the dance and his partner. Before he knew it the song had ended and he felt a tap on his shoulder.


    It was Pugh again, ¡°Mind if I cut in, old chap?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± He nodded, it was only customary. He bid Lady Belfair good evening and wandered off. The glow of the dance, and being close to the Lady lasted until he made it to the edge of the dance floor. Then he turned and watched. She was as magnificent a dancer with Pugh as she had been with him, and Pugh was perhaps even clumsier than Dryden was. They only danced a minute or so before the music ended abruptly and everyone turned to see the Shah being carried in by several enormous Vurunian palace guards on a richly adorned and gold-painted palanquin. Once the palanquin had been placed on the ground the Shah struggled to his feet, he was a large man in every way, both tall but also fat. He was older, bordering on elderly. His hair was white and his face weathered and wrinkled with a huge bulbous red nose that spoke to his legendary and prodigious alcohol consumption.


    Once he had finally stood he spoke and his voice boomed out across the ballroom. He spoke the Vastrum tongue well, with only a slight accent, ¡°Welcome. I hope you are enjoying my party and my hospitality. I have arranged several entertainments for you this evening. Please enjoy them.¡± Once he was finished speaking he sat back down and music of another sort began.

 The Hospitality of Vurun

    Chapter Seven


    Nearly all the lights around the ballroom were extinguished. Lieutenant-Colonel Havor, Captain Pugh, and lieutenants Brine, and Wolcott had come to see the performance and had joined Dryden. Now they stood silent on the edge of the ballroom floor waiting. Somewhere on a balcony above the dance floor, a pale blue light shone down on the stage. All the guests were packed in around the edge of the ballroom watching expectantly. Dryden felt someone slip in next to him and slip their arm around his. He blushed slightly and saw that it was not Lady Belfair as he might have expected, but Lady Julia Gorst, Lady Belfair¡¯s friend. He had not seen or danced with her tonight and only knew her in passing, but he had admired her from afar. He stood somewhat awkwardly and was relieved when somewhere in the darkness a musician began to drum slowly. After several drum beats, another player, hidden in the shadows, began to pluck a stringed instrument matching the slow pace of the drummer. Then the music stopped and all the lights went out.  A moment later a single shaft of lime light beamed down into the middle of the ballroom to illuminate a dancer.


    The woman was dressed extravagantly. Her dress was bright red with huge streaming tail feathers that made her look like a bird of paradise. Everywhere on her outfit were sewn gems that sparkled in the light. She wore a headdress that was adorned with still more feathers and gems. Her dark olive skin, large almond-shaped eyes, black hair, and high proud cheeks marked her as southern Vuruni. She was, in his eyes a remarkable beauty. She was also adorned in a multitude of jewellery. A chain went from her ear to her nose, her arms were covered in bangles, and she had all manner of bejewelled rings and necklaces. Dryden felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of her. Then the music began again, this time the drum and stringed instrument were accompanied by a flute of the Vuruni kind, and the woman began to dance.


    The dance was everything that would make a Vastrum man uncomfortable. It was sensual, sultry, with an air of defiance to it. The woman danced around the room to the music and as she went the music slowly sped up. Light flashed off the gems and she sparkled in the light. The dance went faster and she twirled, and writhed, letting the gown flow through the air around her. Dryden found himself utterly enchanted by the woman. Just as the dance and the music were reaching its crescendo, someone screamed in the darkness. The music stopped and suddenly there was shouting from across the ballroom, near where the Shah was seated. Chaos broke out. People around the dance floor looked on in confusion and concern. The dancer stopped and looked around, as confused as anyone. In the darkness, there was little to see.


    ¡°With me,¡± Havor said, then rushed out onto the dance floor towards the chaos.


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    ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me,¡± Dryden mumbled to Lady Gorst as he dropped her arm and followed his commander.


    The other cavalry officers, Pugh, Brine, and Wolcott, followed their leader too. There was more yelling as they crossed the ballroom. Someone squealed; a sound that was almost like a sow being gutted. There was a crash followed by the guttural sound of men being butchered. Then the lights turned back on and the dancer in the middle of the floor put her hand to her mouth and screamed again. A group of men dressed as servants were laying into the Shah¡¯s guard with khukuri, hacking into the surprised guards like butchers. Men were already down and blood was smeared across the floor. Havor never broke stride, he simply drew his sword and charged the group of men who were disguised as servants.


    Dryden pulled his dress sabre from its scabbard as he ran. The sword was pretty and made for parade, but it was still deadly sharp. He charged point first into the side of a man who was swinging a khukuri at a bloodied guard. The man was skewered by the sword and blood spurted out onto Dryden¡¯s hands. The enemy only grunted and went limp as the sword slipped into some vital place. Together they fell into a heap as chaos reigned around him. It was bloody, but it was no battle, and it ended quickly. The group of servants and several of the Shah¡¯s guards lay scattered on the floor. Others held closed their own gaping wounds caused by the khukuri in shock.


    Dryden got to his feet and tried to pull the sword from the dead man. It was stuck in his spine. He put a foot on the man¡¯s back and worked it free, the body twitching with every tug. When he had retrieved his sword he saw that the end of it was snapped and he tossed it back onto the ground next to the dead man with a curse. Such was the quality of dress swords. Havor came over to him frowning, his face covered in spattered blood. He pointed to one of the dead bodies. It was the Shah. Guranji¡¯s corpulent form lay sprawled in blood on his own white marble floor.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± Pugh said as he joined them and made note of the body, ¡°That¡¯s us done for in Vurun, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Some party.¡± Wolcott quipped.


    The dancer was still in the middle of the room staring at the body. Her hands covered her mouth. Her dark eyes were filled with grief. Tears muddied her dark eyeliner. Finally, she moved, crawling on her hands and knees towards the carnage, then more urgently she nearly leapt to the body of the Shah, her hands taking his lifeless face in her hands and pressing her forehead to his own, tears streaming down. She let out a moan that was filled with grief. Havor stepped next to her and took her by the arm and pulled her up from the corpse. She looked up at him with something close to hate and tried to shake away from him but he held her firmly. He signaled to one of the Shah¡¯s servants who led her away. No words were spoken in the exchange.


    ¡°Who was she?¡± Brine asked.


    ¡°The Shah¡¯s daughter,¡± Pugh replied quietly.


    Then Havor turned to his officers, ¡°Let someone else clean up this mess. We¡¯ve done our duty here.¡± He turned away and stalked off. The rest of them followed in his wake.

 A Royal Offer

    Chapter Eight


    They were only a day removed from the killing of Shah Guranji. Few details were known. The assassins had snuck in dressed as servants during the party. They were thought to be from an eastern clan, but that wasn¡¯t certain. None had survived the violence, and Vastrum employed no necromancers. The men had been killed by the Shah¡¯s guard and the small group of fast-acting cavalry officers of the 13th. They hadn¡¯t been fast enough to save the Shah. Some infantry officers tried to congratulate them on their valour. Havor had none of it. They¡¯d only done their duty, and besides, they¡¯d failed. The truth was, the Shah was dead before anyone knew what was happening. His was the first scream they¡¯d heard.


    There was no time to stop and think on it, however. Dryden mechanically went through the motions of fulfilling his various duties. He spent a few hours inspecting the horses, their tackle, and the food supply. He was accompanied by Stablemaster Reed and the regiment¡¯s quartermaster, Lieutenant Upton. They led Dryden through the inspections. The quartermaster was a short man, with a thick face; not fat, but thick and brutish, with eyebrows that jutted out and an oversized chin. He had beady brown eyes. He was a commoner, risen from the ranks, he had originally been a sergeant. He was a punctual man, extremely accurate and honest in his role. There were problems with the inspection of course, the regiment had been used hard over the last few months, and there were lame horses, worn tackle in need of replacing, some portion of the hay had rotted, and they would quickly become short on feed for the horses if more was not acquired quickly. But the report was better than Dryden had hoped. When they were done he sent Upton to secure more feed for the horses. They¡¯d have time for that. Reed, he sent to tend to the hooves of the lame horses and to have them reshod as needed. These were all regular needs of the regiment, but he tried to instil an urgency in the men. They would need to be in fighting shape, likely for an extended campaign, and quickly.


    The main stables were outside the fort, many horses were housed inside of it, but those were mostly for officers. There simply wasn¡¯t room for the hundreds of horses that the army needed inside the Red Fort. As he walked up the road and approached the looming gate of the huge crimson-coloured fort, he heard a call from behind to clear the road. He stood aside and watched as a small column of horsemen rode up to the gate at a trot. The lead man bore a white flag and another bore a huge flag that streamed behind which was brightly coloured and upon which was a crest of three swords in a circle surrounded by scribbly writing that Dryden could not read. The men were dressed in dark blue robes and their faces were covered. Except for one man. The man at the back of the column was dressed in the light blue and grey uniform of a Fyrin officer. Fyranis, the enemy of Vastrum. Once it had been a part of the empire, an old part, but a century ago it had rebelled. Now it was the military equal, or at least nearly so, of Vastrum. Dryden knew they envied Vastrum¡¯s monopoly of aethium here in Vurun. Other magical substances could give a wizard power, such as gris or salvenium, but none had the potency of the aethium when it came to waging war. Furthermore, as Dryden understood it, many other catalysts had unpleasant side effects. Aethium was something all armies desired. But since their taking of Vurun a decade past, only Vastrum controlled it.


    Once the riders had passed Dryden hurried after them. He turned right inside the gate and jogged up the steps to find that Havor was already coming down them himself.


    ¡°With me, Major.¡± His commander said, passing him quickly, ¡°We have the warlord¡¯s emissary to attend. General Blackwater has called for his command staff. I want you there with me. We must see what these blackguards are about.¡±


    Dryden followed him, ¡°Sir, it can¡¯t be a coincidence that they appear the day after the Shah is killed.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡± As they walked Havor questioned him on the state of the horse, ¡°Are they fit for battle?¡±


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    ¡°The horses need rest, and I¡¯ve sent Upton to acquire more feed. We could fight tomorrow, but a prolonged campaign would present a challenge.¡±


    ¡°What of the men?¡±


    ¡°Fit and eager.¡± He answered, and it was true. The men were angry over Zundak and the Shah. They wanted action.


    Some of the infantry who manned the Red Fort had gathered to watch the party of the emissary. They had practically circled the group that was dismounting, and sergeants were pushing them back and shouting at them to get in line. General Belfair appeared on a balcony above the throng and bellowed out at them for order, ¡°They¡¯re here under truce!¡± He shouted. Immediately there was quiet and men began to obey. The men were ushered into a door that led to General Blackwater¡¯s personal quarters.


    Havor and Dryden followed along with two other colonels that were in charge of other regiments. Dryden recognized one of them as Colonel Gorst, one of the infantry commanders. Together they came into a large lounge, a kind of sitting room with couches, chairs, and a large desk at one end, behind which sat Blackwater. General Blackwater the venerable leader of Vastrum¡¯s army here in Vurun. Everyone was seated and the emissary was introduced.


    The emissary¡¯s guards stood at the back of the room. The emissary was a man named Kal¡¯kuris Dravetta. He was a dark-skinned man with curly black hair and a gaunt long face that looked almost malnourished. His eyes were gold and burned with intensity. A second man who was introduced was the Fyrin officer. He was Jaqu Rovan, an official of the Fyrin army that controlled the land-locked and sparse colonies northwest of Vurun. He was darkly tanned and dirty from the road, but he had a neatly trimmed moustache and two bright blue eyes that lit his face despite the grime of the road. He said nothing, simply sat in a chair and observed.


    They needed no translator. Kal¡¯kuris spoke decent enough Vastrum, ¡°I am here on behalf of his magnificence, the true lord of Vurun, his holiness, the lord of all the east, the lord of the mountains and of the desert and of the steppe, lord of the lands of the wind, ruler of this land: King Kurush. He has a message. The usurper is dead. You are finished here. Leave now with your lives, spare the city and the people. The curse he has placed on the valley will only increase while you are here. He is coming. You cannot win. It is only because of his most generous mercy that he allows you to leave. He¡­¡±


    General Blackwater scoffed and interrupted, ¡°Sir, I daresay, you overstate your position here. Guranji was no usurper, he was the rightful king of Vurun. Your army is on the other side of the Shan and winter is nearly here. You are in no position to demand anything. We will stay here as long as the rightful ruler of this city asks us to stay.¡±


    ¡°Guranji is dead. My king is the only king. His army comes with speed. One week is what he gives you. It is enough. Take what is given.¡± The emissary spoke calmly.


    Blackwater scoffed again and sputtered, completely at a loss for words.


    General Belfair interjected, ¡°Sir, you cannot expect that this is an offer, which we will accept. I think you see that.¡±


    ¡°So I told my lord, but he insisted. He is a generous king.¡±


    ¡°You should take it.¡± Another voice interjected. It was Jaqu, the Fyrin.


    ¡°What is a Fyrin doing here, might I ask?¡± Belfair rounded on him, ¡°I was content to let you sit there and observe, but since you¡¯ve spoken, I demand to know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a neutral observer in this conflict.¡±


    ¡°Neutral?¡± Blackwater sputtered, stood from his desk suddenly, teetered, and fell back into his chair again.


    ¡°Yes. I am not here to fight, merely to observe. Kurush does not require our help, he will crush your army well enough all on his own. I only offered my honest advice. Even being your adversary, I must say that I would hate to see so much bloodshed. Your families are here, are they not? Fighting your men on the field of battle is one thing¡­ But please think of your women and children. Leave now, while you have time.¡± The man said. To Dryden¡¯s ear, the man sounded quite earnest.


    Belfair scoffed again, ¡°We beat your lot bloody a dozen times when we took this place. We¡¯ll do it again to keep it.¡± He directed his anger at the emissary.


    ¡°Is that what I should tell my king?¡± The gaunt man asked, his voice deep and sad.


    It was General Blackwater who answered, ¡°Tell your lord that we respectfully decline his offer.¡± The man sounded tired.


    The emissary and the Fyrin man stood, bowed, and went to leave. Before he exited the room Kal¡¯kuris turned back and when he spoke he sounded genuinely sad, ¡°I am sorry. I will try to protect your women and children in what is to come. I can only try. War makes no promises.¡± Then he was gone out the door, and silence reigned among the men of Vastrum.

 Go Home, Devils

    Chapter Nine


    The next days were busy. Major Dryden was again lost in the busy work of an officer without a war to fight. They had an enemy, to be sure, and they knew something of them now, but the generals had made no decisions on what to do. They had the reports from the 13<sup>th</sup> about Zundak and the location of the enemy army. They also had the ¡°offer¡± given by the emissary, ¡°generously¡± giving them a week to leave Vurun. There was also the matter of the undead rising in certain quarters of Vurun itself, but that had burned slowly in the background. Sepoys had been sent to guard cemeteries, crypts, and old burial grounds. By night those soldiers were busy with the work of killing the undead that rose. It was handled, for now. The matter was practically forgotten by command. Dryden couldn¡¯t get it out of his head. He¡¯d seen it first-hand. There was a curse on the city, placed upon it by their enemy. How a man could do that Dryden did not know, but this Kurush, or one of his followers must have been a powerful necromancer. The one thing that had gone their way was that Quartermaster Upton had come through and secured the supplies the regiment required for its horses. How he had done it Dryden was loathe to ask.


    That was where the good ended. Rumours swirled around the city about the enemy army approaching, the dead walking, and of the dead Shah. Half the city was furious. They seemed to think it had been Vastrum that had killed him, even though that made no sense at all. The colonizers had needed him. The other half of the city was simply afraid. Since the Shah¡¯s death though, the city had been in quiet mourning. Dryden was just beginning to think that perhaps things would settle and they could focus on preparing for their enemy¡¯s attack. It was then that the city chose to erupt.


    It was afternoon when a frantic messenger arrived at the gate on a white Andoverian, a small but quick breed of horse. Dryden was standing near the stables which were next to the main gate of the fort, speaking with Lieutenant Brine about the wisdom of halving the troopers'' arrack rations, when the messenger ran up to him and saluted. Dryden recognized him. He was a young man, perhaps only nineteen years old, a good lad, with deeply tanned skin and black hair. He could not for the life of him remember the boy¡¯s name, though.


    ¡°Major Dryden, Sir, I need the ranking officer on duty.¡±


    ¡°Today that would be Lieutenant-Colonel Havor.¡± He saluted back, then gestured to the Colonel¡¯s office up the stairs by the stables. ¡°I¡¯ll come with you.¡±


    He led the boy up the stairs to the office and they went inside without knocking. Havor and Mar were sitting across the desk from one another sharing a drink. Mar was chuckling at something and Havor was grinning at him. They stopped when the pair entered. The messenger snapped to attention and saluted, ¡°Important message, sir!¡± He said crisply.


    ¡°Well?¡± Havor asked, annoyed at having been interrupted.


    Dryden frowned, they should not have been drinking at this hour. Certainly, Havor should not have been. He was in command here. Both generals were attending other business of some sort. Blackwater was at the palace. Belfair was somewhere. Who knew where? That left Havor in command. He needed to be sober.


    ¡°Riots in the bazaar. Hundreds of people. They¡¯re burning stalls, looting, and beating people they accuse of working with us.¡±


    Havor thought for a moment, ¡°Dryden, you take care of it. Take Pugh and his squadron. Do whatever it takes. Quell the riot. If the sight of the 13<sup>th</sup> doesn¡¯t send the fuzzies running, show them what for.¡± He might have sent the infantry or sepoys, but he didn¡¯t trust their competence or their nerve for hard jobs.


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    ¡°You want me to use deadly force, sir?¡±


    ¡°Do whatever it takes. Belfair made it clear to me yesterday that the peace must be kept. I think he expected this. You know how the Brigadier is. He wants it handled, he does not care how, as long as it is effective.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Dryden replied, then turned to the messenger, ¡°Find Captain Pugh. I want his squadron ready, at the double.¡± The messenger went running off to obey.


    The squadron was mounted and ready faster than he expected but slower than he had hoped. In theory, the squadron was 150 mounted cavalry. On paper, each squadron was made of two companies of 75 men. Again, this was in theory. In reality, each company was a few men down due to illness and injury. Men also died even in peace times. It was hard to replace a good cavalry soldier out here in the colonies. The real strength of the 3rd squadron was more like 120 men, including officers. In addition to Captain Pugh, there were also lieutenants Wolcott and Brine who each led a company, as well as Palfrey a junior lieutenant, and several sergeants. The squadron rode quickly out of the fort and down the road through the cantonment and then out into the city, with Pugh in the lead. The weather was more than fair, it was one of the few days in Vurun that was neither too hot nor cold. The air was crisp and the sky blue. Little was visible of the indigo haze or brown dust that often filled the air.


    Dryden rode a few horses behind the lead with Chatham the translator and Sergeant-Major Flint. It did not take them long to arrive at the bazaar, which was less than a mile from the cantonments. They saw the smoke and heard the rioting well before they arrived. Hundreds of locals were milling about and chanting angrily. Some carried torches or pitchforks, and a few held proper spears or muskets. Dryden let Pugh lead and he arranged the men in a mounted semi-circle around the open area that served as the open-air marketplace. Most of the tents were burned out. Nobody was selling anything today, not anymore.


    The crowd of people took note of the appearance of the cavalrymen and many turned to face the soldiers, chanting, though they kept their distance for now. They began to chant something towards the soldiers, seemingly in unison. There appeared to be a small group leading the chanting.


    Dryden leaned over to Chatham, ¡°What are they saying?¡±


    ¡°Go home, devils. Death to the oppressors.¡± He responded grimly.


    Dryden urged his mount forward slightly. His favourite horse Rosie was in the stable resting a lame hoof, today he was mounted on a big black mare that he had named Elizabeth after his grandmother. He could tell she was agitated by the shouting, but she was trained well and held her nerve. He shouted in a booming voice, ¡°Disperse peacefully now, or we will be forced to use violence!¡±


    Chatham rode up behind him, his horse whinnying and trying to stay back, and he translated, though his voice was not as loud as Dryden¡¯s.


    The chanting continued unabated. He tried again, but again there was no change in the crowd. He moved back to the line of his own men and went up to Pugh. ¡°You think those men are agitators?¡± He asked pointing to a small group of men in the center that seemed to be directing the chanting.


    ¡°I¡¯d agree with that. Cut off the head of the snake, perhaps the rest will stop and go home?¡± Pugh replied.


    ¡°Worth a try,¡± Dryden responded.


    Before they could act, a rock flew in and struck a trooper in the head. It drew blood.


    ¡°That man there!¡± Sergeant Flint shouted and then moved his horse forward to try to apprehend the rock thrower.


    Someone fired a gun from the crowd. It was an old musket and the lead ball flew high, hitting a stone building that bordered the bazaar.


    ¡°Bloody hell.¡± Pugh cursed.


    ¡°Damn the bastards. Clear them from the square.¡± Dryden ordered, ¡°Give them a taste of a good cavalry charge, if you please, Pugh.¡±


    Captain Pugh looked at Dryden as if he were crazy to order the charge against civilians.


    ¡°That¡¯s an order,¡± Dryden said firmly.


    ¡°Sir¡­¡± Pugh began to protest.


    ¡°Do your duty,¡± Dryden said, his chin held high, jaw clenched. The words of Havor had come to his lips unbidden. They were words that the soldiers of Vastrum lived by. The words of his father and his grandfather and all the soldiers before them. They were like a slap in the face to Pugh.


    Pugh raised his sword and shouted the order to charge. The bugle sounded. Many in the crowd yelled as they realized what was coming. Panic broke out, people began to run. All was silenced by the thundering of hooves.

 Ive No Time For Fairytales

    Chapter Ten


    Over a hundred rioters had been ridden down and killed, a hundred more wounded. Only five troopers and one sergeant had been wounded in return, and the worst of those had been the man who had taken the thrown rock to the head. Some horses had gone lame in the charge and subsequent killing. This was common in any battle, and why they kept so many horses. Dryden¡¯s horse Elizabeth had walked with a limp afterwards. Nothing that would not heal with time. The crowd had been packed in and mostly unarmed. There had been nowhere for them to go. Many had been killed not by the cavalry or horse charge, but by the crush of the crowd trying to escape the confines of the marketplace. Once it was done, Dryden took the 13<sup>th</sup> back to the fort. Havor informed Dryden that he was to receive a medal, the king¡¯s merit, and he was to pick four men to receive similar medals for bravery. He picked Pugh, Flint, and two wounded troopers. But there was no time to deal with any fallout from the massacre at the bazaar. One night later the dead came again.


    After the first incidents with the rising dead, sepoys had been sent around the city to guard graveyards. Sepoys were the soldiers that had been drafted from amongst Vastrum¡¯s many colonies. These came from colonies such as the vassal kingdoms of Gulud, Kathalamanyr, and Dravan. Lands that had been taken over the last two hundred years. There existed Vuruni sepoys as well, but Vastrum never employed a group of sepoys in the land from which they hailed. The Vuruni conscripts were deployed far away. Vastrum had learned long ago in their conquests that to deploy a conscript in his own land bred mutiny and desertion at best, and outright rebellion at worse. It is hard to desert the army or fight your conquerors when you¡¯re thousands of miles from your homeland. Most of the sepoys were levies from Gulud, a hot and humid landlocked kingdom far to the southeast of Vurun. Havor did not care for these sepoys, he found them ill-trained, poorly equipped, and unreliable. He preferred sepoys from Dravan, just as he had employed Rathma, his manservant from that country. Dryden had always found the sepoys from Gulud to be excellent. Dryden had found also that prejudices are rarely reasonable.


    At first, those sepoys from Gulud had done their job. They had killed most of the skeletons that had risen. As rumours of an enemy army, and of riots, and as the number of dead rising increased, many of the sepoys fled their posts, regardless of having nowhere to flee. It was too much for them. The regular Vastrum infantry managed to catch a few deserters, whom they hung as an example. It didn¡¯t matter. Morale was gone among the conscripts. A quarter of the sepoys that had been guarding graveyards simply ran. The rest of the sepoys were pulled back to their barracks to prevent them from running too. With the graveyards unguarded, the tide of undead rose across the city.


    The cantonments were not particularly defensible positions. They had been built to house soldiers who had brought their families and to give their men a sense of being back at home. They were familiar. There were walls of course, but they were low and made of wood and wire. It was no fortress. There were also several gates into and out of the cantonment. These could be barricaded, but usually, they were left open for people to come and go. They were protected only by a few guards.


    It was around midnight when Dryden first heard a cry for help, ¡°We¡¯re under attack!¡±


    He roused himself quickly, shaking off the cobwebs of sleep. He threw his jacket on, put on boots, then grabbed his sword and pistol, and hurried from his residence. Bells were now ringing through the fort. He could hear more bells and commotion out in the cantonment below. Men were mustering. He saw Havor ahead of him, having been woken too. They met Mar on the stairs. Wolcott and Pugh had been on duty and were in the process of organizing the men.


    General Blackwater shambled out of the main keep where he was housed, ¡°What¡¯s all this?¡± He demanded sleepily.


    ¡°Sir, an attack in the cantonment.¡±


    ¡°What manner of attack, man, what manner of attack?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Undead. They¡¯re in the cantonment.¡± Was the answer from a soldier.


    ¡°Poppycock! I¡¯ve no time for fairy tales. Leave me to my sleep.¡± The old general doddered off.


    The officers and men assembled looked in shock as the old man tottered off back to bed.


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    ¡°Sir?¡± Pugh asked of Havor.


    ¡°Blood and thunder.¡± The colonel cursed under his breath, ¡°Let¡¯s move. No horses.¡± Then he turned and shouted, ¡°Bring weapons and ammunition only. We¡¯re doing this on foot. Skeletons have been sighted inside the cantonment walls. Stick with your sergeants. These are your families in danger. Let¡¯s get in there and burn these dead bastards out!¡± There was a cheer from the soldiers who were assembled, not only the cavalry troopers but the infantry as well. The infantry commander, Colonel Gorst, was watching, letting Havor take the lead. ¡°Stay close to me, Mar, Dryden.¡± Rathma was there too, Dryden noted. The small dark man was hefting a large khukuri that bordered on being a sword rather than a knife. Mar had already rolled up one of his aethium cigarettes, now he lit it and took a long satisfied drag from it. Together they moved towards the gate and out into the cantonment around the fort.


    At first, they moved at a brisk walk. As they passed the main stables the road widened and became a broad boulevard and they broke into a jog. Large leafed trees that had been planted for shade lined the road, blocking the moonlight, casting deep shadows, and making it hard to see.


    ¡°Split up and search the area. Report back when your avenue has been secured or if contact is made!¡± Havor shouted out.


    The cantonments were not vast, but they weren¡¯t small either. It was a small neighbourhood of homes with white siding, black slate roofs, picket fences out front, and shaded by tropical trees. The soldiers moved off in groups down streets, many of them carrying torches or lanterns to light the way. Bells continued to toll as Havor, Dryden, and Mar walked down the main street towards the front gate. Somewhere a woman screamed and a child cried.


    ¡°There,¡± Havor said, pointing to a shambling figure.


    ¡°Who goes there?¡± Dryden demanded.


    The dark figure groaned in reply. The thing came out of the shadows and into the moonlight for a moment. Havor took his pistol, aimed, and fired. A flash of light and a crack of gunpowder split the night. The bullet exploded through the head of the skeleton. In the moment of brightness, Dryden could see that it was a simple skeleton. Had it been lying inert upon the ground, it would not have bothered him. He had never seen one up close. Even on that first patrol where they had done battle with them, he had only ever seen them from afar. Seeing it now, half alive and animated by dark sorcery, he felt terrified by it. It was both mundane and yet its movements held a kind of otherworldly horror for him. He shuddered at it involuntarily. Then they moved away and down the road, looking for more.


    It didn¡¯t take them long to find them. A group of undead had broken through one of the side gates and were slowly moving through the cantonment. Screams echoed from a small section of the neighbourhood. Dryden saw more shambling towards them. Most of the soldiers had moved away from the officers, going into the neighbourhood to root these monsters out. The lieutenant colonel and his small party were alone here.


    Havor shot another, but too low, and the bullet went right through it, only clipping one of the rib bones. Dryden drew his sabre, walked up to it, and cleaved into its head. The sword didn¡¯t cut the bone but it still did the job as the skull crunched under his sword and the skeletal monster collapsed in a heap of bones. Havor drew his sword and did the same. Together they hacked through the rest of the monsters. There was a sound from behind and a shout. A skeleton had snuck up on them and grabbed Havor from behind. Dryden was too late to help. Rathma was there suddenly, out of the darkness, the colonel¡¯s shadow, and he smashed the thing with his brutal recurved knife.


    They moved more cautiously after that. The group ran across and gathered up several other small groups of soldiers. Parts of the cantonment had been cleared, but none had heard from the southwestern quarter. They moved in that direction past dark and silent homes, some of which had smashed windows and doors ajar. They heard a cry from a house. Several soldiers kicked down the door to enter. Shots rang out. They came back out escorting a woman and her toddler. She said nothing, only clutched her child in abject terror.


    At last, they came upon a massed group of the undead. The undead did not move quickly, but now they turned their attention upon the approaching soldiers led by Havor. ¡°Fire by rank.¡± He ordered. The soldiers that were with them were few but went to obey.


    ¡°No, let me,¡± Mar interjected. Before their commander could answer, Mar waved a hand and began to cast a spell. His aethium cigarette glowed blue as he inhaled.


    Dryden could only make out some details, it was hard to see in the moonlight. First, Mar waved his hands in strange stuttering motions, and his fingers seemed to grow long shadows. Next, a faint glow seemed to emanate from all around the wizard. The night air seemed to shimmer iridescent. Something in the air buzzed, almost like cicadas, and the air took on the scent of cut grass. Finally, a wave of force emanated from the wizard¡¯s hands that moved Dryden¡¯s vision in a way which made him feel ill to his stomach. It was as if all reality had shifted in the wake of the wave. As it moved through the skeletons, each of them fell apart in turn, toppled like a stack of blocks that had been knocked over by an angry toddler. There was surprisingly little sound from the wave of force. Only a faint whisper of wind and the sound of clattering bones as they fell to the ground. Then it was silent on the boulevard. Off in the distance, the crack of gunfire and the shouting of soldiers continued long into the night.

 Whip This Man Until He Confesses

    Chapter Eleven


    Dozens had been killed by the skeletons. Dozens more were wounded. Unfortunately, most of the casualties were women and children who had been brutally attacked by the undead in their homes in the cantonment. A few soldiers and company men had been killed or injured during the fight to secure the settlement. They had cleared it block by block that night. The sun the next morning revealed the extent of the damage. The cantonment itself was still intact, though the gates and some small parts of the walls had been ripped open by the hungering dead. The worst of the casualties were from those living near the main eastern and southern gates. Fear ruled among the people of Vastrum. It was the next day, while the colonists and soldiers were counting their dead and picking up the pieces that the enemy arrived outside the city.


    They came down the valley from the north, from the pass at Zundak where they had crossed the Shan mountains. The first thing that was seen of them was the indigo dust cloud they made as the army moved. Tens of thousands of horses and men. Scouts indicated that nearly all of their force was lightly armoured cavalry. It made their army quick. It was certainly how they had arrived so swiftly. Blackwater¡¯s first move was to recall as many soldiers as possible from the smaller outlying forts that lay around the city. Only the larger forts would be manned. His second move was to send messengers towards Andaban, the first major garrison on the road south to the rest of the colonies. That city was known as the gateway to Vurun. Dryden knew they would be lucky if any of those messengers arrived. Everybody knew. Nobody said it.


    ¡°Blackwater is trying to avoid another Zundak,¡± Havor explained the decision to abandon the forts to all his captains and lieutenants who were crowded into his office.


    Bringing in all the soldiers from all the forts was not a popular decision. The city had no walls, it was too sprawling for that, instead, it had forts to protect it. Pulling back the garrisons was the same as giving up huge portions of the city. Brigadier Belfair was even seen arguing with Blackwater over the decision, an uncommon show of defiance from the commander.


    Pugh shook his head, ¡°Damnit, I don¡¯t normally agree with the Brigadier, but for once he¡¯s right. We can¡¯t give up half the city on the first day. We should be taking the fight to the enemy, not running scared.¡±


    There were murmurs of general agreement around the room.


    Havor cut in, ¡°We have our duty and honour. We may not agree with all our orders, but we will carry them out.¡± His tone made it clear what he thought of the dissent.


    ¡°What¡¯re our orders?¡± Dryden asked. Havor hadn¡¯t told them much.


    ¡°To sit tight,¡± Havor answered grimly through gritted teeth.


    There was silence in the room. This time Mar spoke, ¡°Excuse me? We¡¯re to do nothing? We should be out there countering movements. We¡¯re cavalry. We¡¯re the best shot at¡­¡±


    Havor shot him a withering glare, ¡°I will brook no rebellion in this house. I would normally welcome your input, all your input. I cannot afford to today, not with the enemy in sight of this fort. Discipline is the word now. We¡¯ll have our chance to fight I think, just not today. I do believe the general is preparing for a siege and hoping Andaban can provide some relief.¡± Then he turned to Dryden, ¡°Are we well supplied?¡±


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    ¡°Indeed, sir. Lieutenant Upton, please make your report.¡±


    The stocky older officer stepped forward and saluted crisply, ¡°Sir. We have enough feed for the animals to last several months. Enough for a campaign, I don¡¯t know that it¡¯s enough for a prolonged siege. As for food for the men, there¡¯s enough. Ammunition, powder, and all that, too. The only concern would be if there¡¯s enough arrack for normal rations. Arrack was the cheap alcohol made from sugar that was drunk by both the soldiers and many natives across the colonies. Might have to set our grog rations to half sooner rather than later.¡± The cavalry regiment was in charge of their own supplies, unlike the rest of the brigade, such were their needs.


    ¡°Very good Lieutenant.¡± The colonel replied dryly.


    ¡°There¡¯s a problem though, sir.¡± The quartermaster added at the end, ¡°I was talking to the brigade¡¯s quartermaster. He said they were relying on grain that was supposed to have been brought in by some of the outlying forts. I don¡¯t rightly know how to say this, sir, but there was none, or at least not nearly enough.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saying most of the brigade is nearly out of food?¡± Pugh demanded.


    ¡°Yes, sir. Enough for a month perhaps. He said they¡¯d need a year¡¯s food at least to withstand a siege, and that¡¯s not even for the city or the cantonment, just the soldiers. The V.A.C. has their supplies. We have ours. But the regular colonial units and the sepoys are short by far on what they were supposed to have.¡±


    Before anyone could answer, shouting broke out in the courtyard of the fort. Captain Baker went out to see what the matter was. Dryden followed him. More officers pressed out behind them until they were all standing along the railing that looked down into the courtyard.


    Brigadier Belfair and a large group of sergeants had several men in custody: three junior officers of the regular infantry, and another two sepoy officers. The men were lined up against a wall.


    The Brigadier¡¯s voice boomed out, ¡°You are accused of theft. You sold the brigade¡¯s supplies for your own personal gain. That is beyond dereliction of duty. That is beyond common corruption. You have put the lives of every man here at risk. You have put the lives of every woman and child at risk. You have put this whole city at risk. By doing so you have aided our enemies. That is treason against the crown. It is treason against me! Do you confess?¡±


    The first man looked at the brigadier with defiant eyes, ¡°I ain¡¯t sold nothin¡¯!¡± He said, then spat on the ground, and finished by saying, ¡°Sir.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see. Whip this man until he confesses or until his back is stripped of flesh.¡± Then the Brigadier moved to the next officer, ¡°Do you confess?¡±


    The man was young. He had pale skin and light hair. He looked like he had recently purchased his commission. He was young to be a quartermaster. He nodded, ¡°I do, sir. Yes. I confess. I¡¯m sorry. I sold¡­¡± He didn¡¯t have time to finish whatever he was going to say.


    The Brigadier pulled out a pistol and shot him straight in the face. Then he moved to the next man in line who was shaking. Dryden could see a wet spot forming on his crotch as he pissed himself.


    ¡°Do you confess?¡±


    ¡°No¡­ No sir¡­¡± This earned him flogging.


    He didn¡¯t even ask the sepoys if they confessed, they were simply executed. Then the two men were whipped. Eventually, the younger man confessed and was put up against a wall and shot by a row of sergeants. Only the one older man, the first to deny being corrupt was spared. By the time Belfair was done the man¡¯s back was a mess of bloody stripes. Dryden felt sick to his stomach at the sight. The bodies were cleared and the whipped man was taken to the infirmary.


    ¡°It¡¯s not right.¡± Upton said, ¡°That man was the ringleader if anyone was. I doubt the rest of them had any choice in it if they were even involved at all.¡±


    ¡°How do you know so much about it?¡±


    ¡°The reason we¡¯re so well supplied. It was him I bought the grain from.¡±


    Havor turned on his quartermaster, ¡°I ought to whip you bloody.¡± He growled under his breath.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know where it came from, I was ordered to find the supplies, and I found them. I didn¡¯t ask where they came from. Besides, what I bought was hardly enough to make that kind of a deficit. He must have been selling supplies since we arrived here, and not just to me. Turn me in if you must, sir.¡± He stood at attention, holding his head proudly.


    Havor turned back to his office, went in, and slammed the door with a loud, ¡°Fuck!¡±


    He did not turn in his quartermaster.

 Bite The Hand

    Chapter 12


    The day after Belfair had summarily executed the quartermasters who were accused of selling supplies, parties had been sent out into the city to take what the army needed. Soon after that, men began to fall ill within the fort. It was soon discovered that meat which had been procured from the city had turned. Lord Havor was one of those who fell ill.


    Furthermore, all 7<sup>th</sup> Brigade soldiers who had been stationed in outlying forts had been recalled. All the colonists and the whole army were crammed into the cantonment. Avenues and field grounds had been turned into a single massive army encampment. Only the company mercenaries of the Vastrum Aethium Company, or V.A.C. for short, had refused to abandon their forts which controlled the aethium factories and warehouses. They were not under Blackwater¡¯s command. They did as they pleased. It was during this illness, that riots again swept the city.


    Dryden watched from the walls of the fort, as he often did when he was not busy with inspections or paperwork. He could see crowds of Vuruni men gathering near the southern entrance to the cantonment. Cannon had been placed near the entrances, and a detachment of Grenadiers from the 4<sup>th</sup> Infantry Regiment out of Svardhavn, located in eastern Vastrum, were posted at the entrance. The day was windy, and a cool breeze kicked up sand in the valley. The city beyond the cantonment was hazy with dust.


    This was where Rathma found the Major, ¡°Sahib, the Colonel wants a word with you.¡± The little man had come up in complete silence. Dryden hadn¡¯t heard a thing before he had spoken.


    He followed his commander¡¯s manservant back to the Colonel¡¯s office and went inside.


    He was met with the sour acrid smell of stale vomit. The colonel was laid out on a settee with a metal bucket on the floor next to him. His normally tan face was pale, with sunken eyes. Sweat poured down his forehead. Mar was looking over him holding a cloth to his face. He turned to greet Dryden.


    ¡°Good morning, sir.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s Havor?¡± Dryden asked.


    ¡°Not well, I¡¯m afraid, not well at all.¡± The wizard sat down at Havor¡¯s desk, ¡°Gin?¡± He held up a small flask.


    ¡°No. Thank you. Will he live?¡±


    ¡°That remains to be seen. The doctor left a few minutes ago, he was unsure. Several men have already died from this. A few have recovered. He¡¯s fit and strong. His odds are as good as any. Until such a time as he recovers, I suppose you¡¯re in charge.¡± Mar added.


    ¡°Indeed.¡± Dryden did not need to be told that this was the case. He turned to Rathma, ¡°Fetch Sergeant Flint, have him put a small detachment together. Perhaps a dozen men or so. I want to go down and inspect the defences on the southern cantonment gate. Quickly now.¡±


    The servant ducked out unquestioningly and went to follow the orders.


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be an inconvenience to accompany us, would it?¡± Dryden asked the mage.


    ¡°Not at all. It will be good to stretch my legs.¡±


    Once the section of fifteen men plus officers was assembled, they headed to the cantonment and then down the crowded avenue towards the southern gate. The streets were filled with hastily erected tents. Campfires had been lit right down the middle of the street. Soldiers in dark blue and black uniforms with red trim, the uniforms of the Vastrum regulars, lounged around. A few played dice, though gambling was technically banned. Most sat around smoking and drinking their arrack ration. A handful were busy with the work of keeping the camp tidy.


    As they walked Dryden chatted with Mar, ¡°The other night in the cantonment. When you cast your spell¡­¡± He trailed off.


    ¡°What of it?¡±


    ¡°Why did I smell cut grass?¡±


    ¡°Ahh, yes, indeed. That spell is called Bannock¡¯s Threshing. Every spell relies on the wizard¡¯s memories as much as it does a catalyst. Some memories leak through with the spell. Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°I found it odd. As many spells as I¡¯ve seen cast, I¡¯ve always seen it from afar or during battle. If you only ever saw guns firing in the distance you might not know the smell of the powder. Do all spells smell of grass?¡±


    Mar smirked, ¡°Hardly. Every spell relies on different memories, and each wizard casts it in their unique way. Bannock was likely relying on memories of threshing barley. When I learned the spell I¡¯d never been to the countryside, let alone worked a field. My memory is of trimming the lawn.¡±


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    ¡°Except instead of the grass, you trimmed the walking dead.¡±


    ¡°Just so.¡±


    Dryden began to ask another question about how the wizard learned magic when they arrived at the southern gate. They heard the crowd that had gathered as they approached. A three-deep line of grenadiers was blocking the gate, with cannons placed at the flanks. In front of the grenadiers was a line of sepoys armed only with lathis, a long bamboo stick used for policing. The soldiers from the southern colonies were dressed in tan uniforms and were capped with large white turbans, the uniforms of sepoys from Kathalamanyr. Occasionally the sepoys would swing their sticks at the rioters to keep the crowd at bay.


    An infantry officer saw Dryden approaching and strode up, ¡°Sir.¡± He addressed Major Dryden and saluted. The major nodded back to the lower-ranking soldier. The man was Captain Hale, who Dryden only knew in passing, he did not often have the opportunity to engage with infantry officers. Hale was of medium build with dark hair and handsome blue eyes. His uniform was crisp and he looked every bit the Vastrum officer. He was old for a captain, however, being older even than Lieutenant-Colonel Havor. He was, as many officers were, not competent enough to earn a promotion based on merit and not wealthy enough to buy a higher commission. So he had been stuck at Captain now for many years.


    That was where Dryden¡¯s knowledge of him ended. He looked over the line of soldiers, ¡°What¡¯s the situation, Captain?¡±


    ¡°The lathi sticks have been keeping them at bay, sir.¡±


    ¡°Are the cannon loaded?¡± Dryden asked.


    Hale nodded, ¡°With grape,¡± meaning the cannons were loaded with canisters of grapeshot which would spray out small shot rather than a single large cannonball.


    As they were talking, one of the sepoys charged forward with his lathi stick, meaning to push back the crowd. Instead, he went forward too far, and some of the crowd tackled him and began to beat him. More sepoys charged forward to help their comrade. As they joined the melee it broke into a brawl. A thin line of khaki-clad southerners beating with sticks at a crowd of Vuruni men. The first sepoy was retrieved and the line of sepoys tried to disengage but the crowd surged as they fell back. The line of men found themselves pushed back into the laps of the Vastrum Grenadiers who were suddenly pushing for their lives. The soldiers were armed with rifles fixed with bayonets, but there was simply no room for them to use them as the crowd compressed and surged forward.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± Shouted Captain Hale. He turned back to the fight and began bellowing orders, but he could hardly be heard over the din. Sergeants were trying to get the lines reordered.


    Men from the army camp in the cantonment began running over to assist. Men from the units who had been drunkenly lounging and playing dice a moment before began to arrive and help hold the line. Dryden saw that the soldiers had almost been pushed back to where the cannon were placed. The line could not be allowed to cross that point.


    ¡°Anything you can do?¡± Dryden shouted to Mar.


    ¡°Not without risking our own.¡± The wizard shouted back.


    Dryden found Captain Hale and shouted right in his ear, ¡°The cannon!¡±


    Captain Hale looked back at him horrified.


    ¡°We must not lose the cannon!¡± The major shouted again.


    The man nodded grimly, ¡°Can you get to them?¡± Hale asked over the din of the brawl.


    Dryden nodded his head, ¡°With me!¡± Dryden shouted to Flint and his men. Then he pushed through the press of soldiers in the direction of the closest cannon.


    The mob of combatants buffeted the small group as they pushed through. As they went, Sergeant Major Flint took the lead, elbowing his way through violently. He was a stout man, as strong as an ox. He bullied his way through the crowd, shouting and cursing at everyone in the way. He tossed a huge grenadier aside, then pushed a sepoy out of the way. Then, suddenly they were there at the cannon. It was nearly lost. Rioters were grabbing and pulling at it, trying to get ahold and turn it. Flint grabbed a fallen musket from the ground and used the bayonet to skewer a man who was climbing over the top.


    A terrified gunner was huddled next to his cannon with a lit linstock in his hands. Dryden pried it from the man¡¯s clenched fists and put the match to the touchhole on the cannon. The great old gun roared to life. Flames and grapeshot blasted out in a huge cloud of saltpetre smoke. The rioters directly in front of the gun seemed to vanish in a pink mist of blood and gore. More in the crowd behind them were blasted backwards as if tossed by an invisible hand. The only thing Dryden could hear above the ringing in his ears afterwards were the screams of the wounded. Then another cannon roared to life and another. The rioters in the front were turned to pulp, and those behind were peppered with shot. The pressure of the crowd vanished suddenly. The sepoys fell back, replaced by a rank of grenadiers.


    ¡°Fire!¡± He heard the muffled cry.


    The grenadiers fired into what remained of the crowd. The protestors died or ran. The protests and riots had gone on for days. They were over in less than a minute. The boulevard was covered in bodies and pieces of bodies. The gutters ran with blood. Captain Hale vomited beside the wheel of the cannon. Dryden felt as if he might vomit as well, but he turned up his chin and held it in. He turned to find Mar trying to roll one of his aethium cigarettes but his hands were shaking violently. The wizard threw down the paper and tobacco in frustration with a curse.


    ¡°Good work chaps, damn fine work!¡± Belfair had arrived, ¡°Gave those roonies what for!¡± The sound of the Brigadier¡¯s voice droned in the background, ¡°Another medal for you Major, and you Captain Hale. Damned fine work, that was.¡±


    He heard the words. He felt numb. To Dryden, it felt like the worst kind of work. The smell of powder and blood mixed in his nostrils. ¡°Damn you, Belfair.¡± The words came unbidden, ¡°Damn your medals.¡± In the shocked silence that followed, he turned to stalk off back to the fort. His men followed.


    As he passed Belfair, the Brigadier hissed under his breath, ¡°You don¡¯t bite the hand that feeds, Major, you don¡¯t bite the hand. You walk away from me, you¡¯ll regret it.¡±


    Dryden already regretted everything about this. He thought nothing could make him regret it more. He walked away without breaking stride even for a moment.

 You Will Be Among The First To Die

    Chapter 13


    Two days later Havor was still sick. He sat on his couch with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a cup of tea. He was improving, at least. Dozens of men had died from the tainted meat including half a dozen cavalry troopers from Baker¡¯s squadron. The rest of those who had fallen ill were finally recovering. Dryden hadn¡¯t been sick, but he¡¯d felt queasy ever since the slaughter at the cantonment gates. Havor, Mar, Pugh, and Dryden sat discussing the various possibilities the siege and campaign could take.


    ¡°If we get word to Havelock, none of this matters, we¡¯ll be relieved in weeks.¡± Dryden asserted.


    ¡°That¡¯s shaky ground to stand on.¡± Pugh replied, ¡°If word doesn¡¯t get through, we¡¯ll be sat here waiting for weeks before we find out there¡¯s to be no rescue.¡±


    ¡°The only way out is to fight,¡± Havor said. He did not have the energy to elaborate.


    ¡°And that¡¯s no sure thing.¡± Pugh added, ¡°This army we face is double our number and all light cavalry. We¡¯ll be fighting a running battle on our heels the whole way.¡±


    Havor grunted in agreement, then sipped his tea.


    ¡°But if we can get someone through, it could make all the difference.¡± Dryden insisted.


    ¡°They¡¯ll have blocked up all the passes. Sending a few messengers won¡¯t help. We would need to break through in force,¡± Pugh insisted.


    ¡°Whatever we do. We need to act, and quickly. Blackwater needs to make a decision.¡±


    Havor turned to Dryden, ¡°Blackwater is meeting with their false Shah. He wanted me to attend him. I¡¯m still poorly. You¡¯ll go on my behalf, eh?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course, sir. What of Belfair? I angered him.¡±


    Mar chuckled and gave him a nod of respect, ¡°That you did.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about him for now. He harbours a grudge well. It may be a problem after all this,¡± Havor gave Dryden a nod and took a sip of tea.


    ¡°Assuming we live,¡± Pugh added cheerfully.


    Havor continued, ¡°Anyway, Blackwater doesn¡¯t want Belfair at the meeting. His temper has too short a fuse.¡±


    Later that morning Dryden found himself riding out the gate alongside a contingent of officers and attendants. They were escorted by General Blackwater¡¯s elite horse guard, a group of a few dozen soldiers dressed in silver and black, mounted upon large black Marrowick-bred draught horses. The group included General Blackwater himself. As Havor had said would be the case, there was no sign of Brigadier Belfair among the group. Dryden found himself riding directly behind the old commander. The general was tall and thin and had a bald head under his bicorn hat. He had great bushy white eyebrows and a stark white thin moustache. He was a man who had earned many decorations in battle when he was young. Now he had a tremor and was rumored to occasionally forget where he was. He still looked like a general sitting on the back of his horse, albeit an elderly one.


    Behind Dryden rode Chatham along with two other interpreters, the others were competent, but the Major trusted the 13<sup>th</sup>¡¯s interpreter far beyond the others, if only because he was more familiar with the young man.


    Riding next to Dryden was Colonel Marcus Gorst. He was a tall man of around fifty years. He had salt and pepper hair with thick mutton chops. He wore a tricorn hat, in the old style. The man was the father of Julia Gorst, a young woman whose eye Dryden had caught at the ill-fated ball. He was an infantry commander, in charge of the 9<sup>th</sup> Regular Infantry, the Queen¡¯s Chosen. The colonel was known as a competent soldier.


    Gorst leaned in, ¡°That was bloody business.¡± He said, without elaborating.


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Dryden replied, not sure what the colonel might be getting at.


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    ¡°Had to be done, though. Had to be done.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    ¡°My Julia has taken an interest in you, I do believe.¡±


    Dryden felt himself blush. It felt a wildly inappropriate time to talk about this, ¡°You¡¯ve raised a fine young woman, sir. Hard to raise a young woman in a country like this with no mother, eh?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, major.¡± Gorst¡¯s tone told Dryden that he had been a bit too familiar, and brought up a touchy subject. No more was said about it.


    The road through the city seemed to take forever. He did not want to be talking about a young woman who might be interested in him with her father, let alone while they were riding through what was ostensibly enemy territory. They were under a white flag. That might protect them from Kurush and his army. It was unlikely to stop the citizens of Vurun.


    Gorst grinned, ¡°Perhaps if we make it out of here¡­¡± The man let the thought trail off. It was almost a kind of proposal, it seemed. Julia¡¯s father seemed to be suggesting that he take up a courtship with Lady Julia.


    ¡°Perhaps.¡± Dryden said, wanting to do anything to postpone this conversation to another day, ¡°We have to survive first.¡±


    The colonel changed the subject, ¡°I heard you gave old Belfair what for.¡± He gave a great belly laugh, ¡°Good for you. Bravely done. He won¡¯t soon forget it.¡±


    Dryden blushed again. He was unused to praise. He was especially surprised to hear a senior officer speak this way about another. ¡°Sir, I don¡¯t think such talk is appropriate. I was insubordinate.¡±


    ¡°Oh, nonsense.¡± The colonel replied, this time speaking quietly so Blackwater couldn¡¯t hear him, ¡°That bastard has it coming and more. If we get out of this and home there¡¯ll be a court martial for him. He killed two officers. You can do that to the sepoys. Nobody gives a damn. Maybe even a common soldier or two. But you can¡¯t kill good officers like that, not without a proper trial.¡± Dryden knew it was true. Still, it was something else to hear the colonel say so out loud.


    As they wound their way through the streets of Vurun they passed a large old temple. The whole temple was bone white and carved intricately with spiralling fractal patterns interwoven with images of human sacrifice. The streets outside were empty except for a lone figure who seemed to be dancing madly in the street.


    ¡°Move aside!¡± One of Blackwater¡¯s horse guard demanded of the woman.


    She spoke in a thick Vuruni accent, but her Vastrum was good, ¡°What right have you to this street that I do not?¡±


    ¡°Woman. Move.¡± The guard repeated coldly.


    Dryden saw now that the woman was dressed in a gown that clacked with hundreds of small bones that had been tied with string to her outfit. Her hair was wild. He also saw that she was missing teeth.


    She grinned up at the guard, the gaps showing, ¡°This is my temple. I dance my dance every day here. Rain or shine. Peace or war.¡±


    ¡°Fucking ascetics,¡± Gorst swore under his breath. He urged his horse forward.


    Before he could speak she pointed at him, ¡°You¡¯ll be among the last to die.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± He blustered.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be one of the first.¡± She pointed at Blackwater.


    ¡°He won¡¯t die at all.¡± She said laughing and pointing at Dryden, ¡°Though one day he¡¯ll wish he did.¡± She pretended to shoot a gun and then went dancing out of the way, her bone dress clacking as she whirled and writhed strangely. ¡°You are sheep, your shepherd is a sad old man, the wolves are here, and they are ravenous with hunger.¡± She cackled madly.


    ¡°We are the wolves, old woman.¡± The guard retorted. Then he kicked his horse.


    The column moved on. The old priestess continued to cackle with mad laughter as they passed her. Her laughter haunted Dryden long after they had gone. Another hour of riding and they arrived at the edge of the city. A group of horsemen with a white flag were waiting for them between two mud brick buildings. A large ornate tent had been erected nearby, presumably where talks would be held. Among them were Kal¡¯kuris, the emissary from the first meeting, and Jaqu, the Fyrin officer. In the middle of the group sat a man dressed all in white and gold. On his head was a golden crown that shone brightly in the sun. Surely this was Kurush. He had a proud sharp nose, bright gold eyes, and long smoothly brushed straight black hair. His skin was like bronze, the colour of the eastern tribes. He wore no jewels, only his white robes and gold jewellery.


    Next to the eastern pretender sat a woman. She looked much the same as he did. To Dryden, she looked like his sister. She had the same jet-black straight hair, the same bronze skin, the same proud nose, and those piercing golden eyes. She was dressed, however, in silk as black as night that flowed around her in the light breeze. She wore a thin transparent veil across her mouth, which was adorned with gold. If she had not looked so much like his sister, Dryden might have thought her a queen or consort.


    Kal¡¯kuris urged his horse forward slightly and spoke loudly, ¡°Behold! You stand before he who is! His great magnificence, the true king of Vurun, his holiness, the lord of all the east, the lord of the mountains and of the desert and of the steppe, lord of the lands of the wind, King of Kings! Shahanshah Kurush!¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s dressed rather finely, is he not?¡± Blackwater asked idly to nobody in particular, then, ¡°I think I shall take tea in the tent.¡± He turned his horse towards the aforementioned tent, then swooned and nearly fell off his horse. Only a nearby corporal kept him from completely falling to the ground. After recovering for a moment he turned to Dryden and Gorst and spoke in a high nasally tone, ¡°Gentlemen, I believe I am unwell.¡±

 A Graveyard for Bold Men

    Chapter 14


    The light inside of the tent was dim. The air was cool. It was richly appointed with silk floor pillows. Servants brought drinks to the assembled officers and warlords. Shaved ice was served, flavoured with mint. Dryden wondered at the difficulty and expense of the frosty dessert here in the hot dry climate. Would such a king be any different from Guranji? He thought not but held his tongue. General Blackwater was not in a good state. He was flushed and exhausted. He was given the central seat across from Kurush, a place of honour. He was reclined and given cool water to drink. One of Kurush¡¯s servants had been set to fanning him. If nothing else, the warlord knew the art of hospitality.


    Gorst and Dryden were seated on either side of the old general. Behind them were the general¡¯s staff and their translators. The guard had been left outside. Along with Kurush sat the darkly dressed woman, and his emissary Kal¡¯kuris. Behind him sat several of his warlords, as well as the Fyrin officer Jaqu.


    The emissary Kal¡¯kuris was the first to speak, ¡°You have overstayed my king¡¯s most merciful and generous offer. We provided you with one week. It has been three. Was I not clear when we met before?¡±


    ¡°You were clear.¡± Colonel Gorst replied. He had been among the officers present at that meeting.


    ¡°In these weeks, your position has weakened, has it not? Lack of supplies. Disease among the soldiers. Now, bedlam in the streets, and in your own camp. You have withdrawn from the outer forts. That my king has not taken them is another mercy he offers. Finally, I must mention, that the state of your general, Lord Blackwater, is concerning. We wish him good health.¡±


    There was no reply. All of what he said was true. It seemed likely that there were enemy agents in Vurun who had provided these details to the enemy.


    Then Kurush spoke with a smile on his bronze sun-darkened face. He spoke in the Vuruni tongue. Chatham translated, whispering into Dryden¡¯s ear, ¡°He says he now sees why you have not left Vurun. Your General Blackwater is not fit to travel. He says he is merciful. He did not understand why you had not accepted his generosity, but now he sees that you could not. He respects your loyalty to your leader. He wishes for peace. He believes that you wish for peace also, and that is the reason for which Belfair is not present. He grants you one final week for Blackwater to recover, then you must all leave the city.¡±


    Gorst frowned and looked to Blackwater, ¡°Sir?¡±


    The old general propped himself up and looked at Kurush, then around at his men, ¡°Belfair¡­ Where is Belfair?¡±


    ¡°You opted to leave him in command of the fort, sir,¡± Gorst whispered.


    ¡°Where are we, captain?¡± The old general asked.


    ¡°We¡¯re in talks with Kurush, sir, and I¡¯m a colonel now.¡±


    ¡°Good gods, congratulations man, when did that happen?¡± Blackwater looked up at his colonel in surprise.


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    ¡°Years ago, sir. You need to make a decision. Fight or retreat.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m tired.¡± The old man replied, ¡°So very tired. Can we choose tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°We cannot.¡±


    ¡°I leave it to you, then, colonel.¡± He leaned back and sighed.


    Gorst looked to Dryden with a pained face, he didn¡¯t want this burden. This should never have been his decision. It wasn¡¯t Dryden¡¯s either.


    ¡°Belfair would stay and fight.¡± Dryden whispered, ¡°So would Havor.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not here, however.¡± Gorst turned back to the warlord, ¡°I¡¯m afraid General Blackwater is unwell, as you know.¡± Gorst started to say. One of the translators spoke for him in the Vuruni tongue. ¡°He has left the decision to me. I assume your offer comes with the promise of safe conduct for our army and followers through Settru Pass and all the way to our garrison at Andaban?¡±


    ¡°It does.¡± The warlord replied in perfect Vastrum.


    ¡°Then I¡­ ¡° Gorst began.


    ¡°If you recognize me as rightful king of Vurun.¡±


    Gorst sputtered. He didn¡¯t have the authority for that. He knew it. The warlord likely knew it. He didn¡¯t care. He wanted them to cede the city. ¡°I need to consult my people. Will you give me a moment?¡± He leaned in to Dryden, ¡°Keep him busy while I talk with the general¡¯s advisors.¡± Gorst left the tent then, with several adjutants and corporals.


    Dryden sat awkwardly with Chatham, the two of them practically alone with the warlord. Only Blackwater was there with them, but he was snoring, asleep on the silk pillows, being fanned by a servant.


    ¡°You are the warrior, then?¡± Kurush asked in Vastrum. He spoke directly to Dryden.


    ¡°I¡¯m a soldier.¡± He replied.


    ¡°I understand you have the spirit of a fighter. You have won medals and honour in battle, have you not?¡± The warlord said.


    ¡°I¡¯ve done my duty,¡± Dryden answered. He wondered how the warlord knew anything about him.


    The woman laughed, her gold eyes burned into him, ¡°Your soul is stained. I see it. Duty is a mask. We are here to speak of peace, yet you are no dove. You cavalrymen are leopards. Your jaws are painted in blood, yet you claim only to do your duty.¡± She laughed wickedly again. ¡°A thousand years of conquest. Blood in the sands and bones among the rocks. You come again and again for the power of the land, and every time, you men die here. We here in this land know well how to hunt leopards. This is a graveyard for bold men. The soil remembers the sins committed upon it. It remembers you, and all your kind that came before; murdering, raping, burning, stealing, and sucking its blood...¡±


    Before she could continue her rant, the tent flap opened and Colonel Gorst walked back in, ¡°We accept. You are king here. We will leave within a week¡¯s time, so long as you promise us safe passage.¡±


    ¡°Safe passage, you shall have it. We are agreed.¡± The king smiled warmly, ¡°You have one final week, but do not think us friends. If you stay, we will make an end of you.¡±


    They all rose then and left the tent. Blackwater was carried from the tent and placed into a cart, he was in no shape to ride his horse. The general¡¯s guard and all his adjutants and officers mounted up and they went to leave.


    As they rode by, the sister of the new king stopped and stared at Dryden, ¡°My brother offers you safe passage. That is his to give. The land itself answers to no king!¡± Her gold eyes flashed brightly in the sun, wind whipped her black hair, and she laughed that same wicked laugh. Then the column of riders were past her and she was gone.


    ¡°One bloody week. It¡¯s not half enough time to move an army.¡± Gorst growled, ¡°Damn Blackwater, damn Belfair, and damn this whole bloody mess.¡±


    Dryden nodded, ¡°We do what we must, sir.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, major, indeed.¡±


    All the way back to the fort, the eyes of the woman haunted him. There was pain there, and a rage he¡¯d never seen in a woman before. He believed Kurush¡¯s promise. He was certain of it. It was that woman they would have to worry about. If it were her decision, he knew she would never let them leave this place alive.

 I Thought You Men of Honour

    Chapter 15


    Dryden sat in a chair outside Brigadier-General Belfair¡¯s office. His voice echoed through the hallway, barely muffled by the wooden door to his office. He was screaming at Colonel Gorst. Dryden didn¡¯t envy him in the least.


    ¡°Gods damn you, man! You¡¯ve given up the city on the whim! Did you even negotiate?¡±


    There was a pause as Gorst said something in return.


    ¡°You¡¯re a god damned coward! I ought to have you whipped in the square! Damn Blackwater¡¯s condition! You see a gaggle of irregular Vuruni horse bandits, and you just hand over the keys to the fucking city, to the supply of fucking aethium, and on nothing more than a coward''s bloody whim! Where is your honour, sir? Your sense of duty?¡±


    There was another muffled retort.


    ¡°Blood and thunder, man, I don¡¯t care how bloody many of them there are!¡±


    More muffled words from Gorst came through.


    Belfair screamed, ¡°If your quartermasters hadn¡¯t been corrupt, we¡¯d have enough food too! I ought to have shot you with the rest of them! Get out of my sight!¡± He roared.


    Gorst walked out of the office, his face ashen. He¡¯d been screamed at for perhaps ten minutes straight by Belfair. He looked down at Dryden as he passed. They shared a brief nod of respect, then Gorst moved off down the hall gripping his officer¡¯s cane with white knuckles.


    Belfair¡¯s voice boomed from the dimly lit office, ¡°Major Dryden. My office.¡±


    Dryden entered the office crisply and snapped to attention. Major Belfair looked out of sorts. His face was redder than usual, his eyes slightly bloodshot. He was seated in a large comfortable desk chair upholstered in red padded leather. His desk was wide and sprawling and made of dark wood. A single lantern above the desk lit the room. There were no windows. Dryden saluted smartly.


    ¡°Sit.¡± Belfair gestured to a wooden chair across the desk from him.


    Dryden sat.


    The older general took a few moments before speaking, taking the measure of his officer, ¡°I understand that you had nothing to do with the decision to abandon Vurun. For that reason, and out of respect for your family, I will not give you the same dressing down that Colonel Gorst received. We did not send you for your diplomatic acumen. You were chosen to go in place of Lieutenant-Colonel Havor because we needed a real fighting man in that room. You have the eyes of a wolf, Dryden. Tell me what you saw.¡±


    ¡°There were perhaps a dozen warlords in the tent with us. Each of them a fighter. Each one a chief of his own clan. This man, Kurush, has found a way to unite them, at least for now. I worry about his sister.¡±


    ¡°His sister?¡± Belfair almost laughed.


    ¡°Yes, his sister. She has a rage that the others lack. They all hate us, to be sure, but they are cold and calculating about it. She revels in it.¡±


    ¡°Women always let their passions spill over. That is why the men lead. Perhaps she caught your eye. Was she very pretty?¡± Belfair laughed.


    Dryden frowned, ¡°In any case, I trust Kurush to let us retreat unhindered. He seems a man of his word. I¡¯m afraid that his sister will stir up trouble for us. Whatever her appearance or temperament, if she has any clout with the other warlords, it could put us in a bad spot. She made it clear publically that she would not let us go freely.¡±


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    ¡°Are they spirited and eager for battle?¡±


    ¡°Spirited? Yes. Eager? They did not seem so. I think they truly want to avoid a fight if they can take the city without one. They are shrewd.¡±


    ¡°Or cowards.¡± Belfair added, ¡°I was for fighting. I¡¯m still for it. I disagree utterly with the decision to retire from the city, as I think I have made clear. Blackwater has made clear that we are to honour the decision made by Gorst. He insists it was his choice. I can count on you, though, if it does come to a fight?¡±


    ¡°Of course sir, if it comes to a fight, the 13<sup>th</sup> is more than ready,¡± Dryden answered.


    ¡°Lord Havor, how is he?¡±


    ¡°Recovering. He needs another day, perhaps two, before he is fit for the saddle again.¡±


    ¡°Good. We¡¯ll need him, and all of the bloody 13<sup>th</sup>, before this is through. Well, what¡¯s done is done, I suppose. There¡¯s nothing for it but to prepare to withdraw. One bloody week is all we get. Better get to it, then. Dismissed.¡±


    Dryden turned and left the room, breathing a sigh of relief that he had not been screamed at for ten minutes straight. Somehow Dryden knew that Belfair¡¯s misogyny would result in difficulty for them. Underestimating that woman, and her hatred for them, was a mistake.


    He left the offices of Belfair in the fort and walked outside from the keep and into the main courtyard. Soldiers and servants were piling supplies and equipment into carts all across the fort. The same thing was happening in the cantonment as the army prepared for an extended march. Everyone from Vastrum soldiers to sepoys, to Vuruni servants, to colonists, was engaged in the business of mobilization. They had one week before they were to leave. Only one week. Then they had to cross bare rocky scrub lands with bad roads, wind down narrow valleys on treacherous paths, and then climb the high road to Golconda and the Settru pass, then finally could they make their way through the desert all the way down the long dry road to the safety of Andaban. The journey would take them three weeks at the best of times. It could easily turn into months if the Settru pass was difficult. Only the tiny garrison at Golconda could offer any relief, and it was little more than a fortified way station, even smaller than Zundak. This was the journey that awaited them. He considered all this as he walked across the grounds to Havor¡¯s office to report on his meeting with Belfair.


    As he took to the stairs to climb up, he nearly bumped into a woman. He was surprised to see a woman in the fort. It was highly unusual. Women were not outright banned, but discouraged, as they might ¡°rile up the men¡±. He did not know the woman, but she seemed vaguely familiar to him.


    ¡°Apologies, ma¡¯am.¡± He said, tipping his cavalryman¡¯s shako cap to her.


    ¡°You. You were there,¡± The woman said.


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    He looked at her again with fresh eyes. The woman was clad all in black, her dress and shawl were fine black silk. She had olive skin, almond eyes, black hair, high cheekbones, pouty red lips, and a slightly hooked nose. She seemed more familiar to him, but he still couldn¡¯t place her.


    ¡°You are cavalry, yes? Where is your commander, your Havol?¡± She asked in an almost petulant tone.


    ¡°Lieutenant-Colonel Havor?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Yes, him. Take me to him.¡± Her tone bordered on imperious.


    Dryden hesitated for a moment, this was highly unusual, but he acquiesced. What harm could it do? ¡°Very well, right this way, madam.¡±


    He led the woman up the stairs and over to Havor¡¯s office. He knocked and entered. Colonel Havor was seated at his desk going over a report. Mar was seated on the couch off to the side. Dryden saluted.


    ¡°As you were,¡± Havor said without looking up. Then he took note of the woman that came in behind his Major. ¡°What¡¯s this, then?¡±


    ¡°This woman has asked to see you, sir. I thought it improper to refuse a lady.¡±


    The woman stepped past Dryden and looked Havor over, her dark eyes searching for something in the colonel. ¡°You will take me with you.¡± She said. It was not a question.


    Havor smirked, ¡°Madame, we are going on a very long journey. We are undersupplied, and we have more than enough people to¡­¡±


    She cut him off and declared, ¡°You are a man, yes or no?¡± Her tone held contempt. It implied the answer was no.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Havor was taken aback. He stood up and leaned on his desk to support himself, ¡°Just who do you think you are?¡±


    The woman¡¯s eyes flashed. Suddenly Dryden knew her. She was the one who had danced at the ball. The one who had screamed and wailed at the sight of the Shah dead on the ground.


    ¡°I am Princess Roxana of the An-Dakal. My father was Shah Guranji. When you go, you will take me with you.¡±

 The Bloody 13th

    Chapter 16


    The next week was a blur. Little happened aside from the business of preparing to leave Vurun. Provisions were collected, carts were loaded, gear was stowed, and all was accounted for properly under the watchful eye of Brigadier Belfair. Equipment that could not be taken was destroyed. Cannons were spiked. Excess aethium was burned. Mar, the wizard, watched the burning of the aethium with an almost angry intensity. He would carry as much as he could, carts were loaded with it, but there was simply too much for them to take. They needed most of the space for more practical supplies. Gun powder, weapons, food, water, feed for horses, tents, camp supplies, and so much more. There were also impractical things, such as the goods of the colonists. Dryden saw one colonist¡¯s wagon filled with furniture and chests of clothes. He had thought to tell them to leave those things but knew it was not his place. Then beyond the soldiers and colonists there were thousands of servants and camp followers who would come. All carried what they could, many in huge bundles which would be strapped to backs. It was not simple, this trek they were to undertake. Dryden knew it would be hard, perhaps impossible. Perhaps Belfair and Havor had been right, that they should have stayed and fought here under the indigo haze of Vurun.


    When the day came for them to leave the scale of the crowds seemed beyond comprehension. The soldiers were in good order, lined up for marching. First came the 4<sup>th</sup> Infantry Regiment¡¯s grenadiers in the vanguard. Next came the 11<sup>th</sup> infantry, hard men from Thanig in the north of Vastrum who dressed in sharp blue and white uniforms with red trim with crested helmets. Next came a group of sappers and engineers, men whose job would be to make the road passable. A group of irregular light cavalry lancers came after them, mercenaries from the southern colonies. Then came unit after unit of sepoys. First men from Dravan dressed in white pants and black tops, wearing western-style shakos. Then more from Gulud, Kathalamanyr, and elsewhere. Ten thousand sepoys marching out. All in good order. More Vastrum soldiers followed, simple regiments of farm boys conscripted from across the realm. Of the soldiers in Vurun, only the V.A.C. regiments had yet to join the column. The army itself was followed by its baggage train, a seemingly endless stream of carts. Livestock herded by drovers came next. After the main body of the army came the colonists in their carts. Some had refused to leave the city, but most were families of soldiers and went with the military. The stream of carts was disorganized, and more than one lost a wheel and had to be left before they had even left the cantonment. Many of the wagons were driven by soldier¡¯s wives or older sons. Dryden watched the chaos impassively. This was the easy part, he knew. After the colonists came the families of the servants and sepoys along with countless others from Vurun who had been allies of the assassinated Shah Guranji. Few people spoke, most were simply following silently along in a kind of quiet shock. None wanted to go, but if they stayed, they would die or be enslaved. After the last of the Vuruni had passed, a small contingent of light infantry rangers followed them. The last to go was the rearguard: The Bloody 13th.


    Lieutenant-Colonel Havor stood up in his stirrups and waved his sword, ¡°13th, with me!¡± He was mostly recovered from his illness, but he took a chill easily and still coughed occasionally.


    The regiment¡¯s colour guard led them out. The King¡¯s banner at the head followed by the regimental colors. Behind them rode Lord Havor and Mar along with several sergeants. Roxana rode with them, disguised as a soldier and mounted on a black horse. Behind them was Pugh¡¯s squadron. Next came Captain Wilson¡¯s squadron. Then Baker¡¯s took up the rear. Dryden followed at the back. He gave the looming fort one last look. It was dark and empty. A cold wind kicked up from the east, blowing his hair, and a cloud blocked out the sun. He looked back to the column of horsemen moving away from him and he felt a great sense of foreboding come upon him. Dryden was not prone to fear, but suddenly he felt a primal urge to turn his horse around and ride in the opposite direction of that army. For a moment he almost did. Then the words of his father, Lord Starlington, came to him again, as they did often, ¡°Do your duty.¡± He turned and kicked his horse into a canter and quickly caught up with his men.


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    When they turned the corner out of the cantonment he was at the highest point. He could see the whole road through Vurun. It ran straight, up from the high ground of the fort in the east of the city all the way down the valley, across the river, and up again out of the city to the west. The streets were crowded almost to bursting. The column moved ponderously. It was not only the column itself. Crowds had come out to heckle the fleeing army. They pushed and jockeyed in the streets. What had started a sombre but ordered march was slowly becoming mired in disarray. Still, the soldiers at the front slowly pushed forward. He could see them far ahead down the lane below making headway, the massive grenadiers would not be stopped.


    Going was slow. It took an hour to move a single mile. Each delay at the front reverberated backwards, slowing and stopping everyone behind. The disorganization and chaos of the servants and civilian portions of the column slowed them further. As the 13th rode, the anger of the Vuruni crowd seemed to grow. They clearly remembered the bazaar. The rangers ahead of them were being jostled and pushed. Screams of fury echoed around them. Then a sandal came flying in, thrown by someone in the crowd. The soldiers and their horses pushed gamely on. Horses whinnied, but didn¡¯t panic. They were well-trained and used to battle. Then a rock came in and hit a trooper. Then another.


    ¡°Fuck this!¡± Sergeant Flint shouted. He was riding several horses ahead of Dryden. He aimed his blunderbuss in the direction the rocks had come from.


    ¡°Hold!¡± Dryden shouted at him. He knew the situation was poor, but this could become so much worse.


    Flint looked back at him, sighed, and began to relent when thrown from the same direction as the rocks a huge fistful of fresh horse shit hit the Sergeant Major squarely in the face. The burly sergeant fired his gun straight into the crowd. People screamed in agony and the crowd made way where he had fired as people fell to the ground or fled. His gun was a blunderbuss, which, unlike a normal musket that fired a single lead ball, fired a wide spread of shot. Dryden didn¡¯t even really blame him. He wasn¡¯t even sure that the shot had been intentional, the sergeant had been standing down. Intent became purely academic, however, as the crowd around them yelled and surged in reaction to the shot. The back end of the cavalry column was pushed out of order. A big brown stallion reared up and threw his rider, a trooper from Brine¡¯s company. The crowd jostled into Dryden¡¯s horse Rosie. She reared up suddenly, neighing and kicking out at the crowd. He barely stayed in the saddle. Hands reached out to grab his reins from the press of the mob. If they got ahold of his horse and him, he knew he was doomed.


    Dryden ripped his sabre from its sheath, naked steel flashing in the sun. Around him, the hiss of steel being torn from scabbards echoed. He raised his sword arm high and screamed, ¡°Men of the 13th! Do your duty!¡± He kicked Rosie¡¯s flanks and she heaved forward. He felt the crowd begin to part. They knew what was coming, but they had nowhere to go. The horses of the 13<sup>th</sup> surged ahead. He knew his men were with him. His arm fell, bringing the sword down with it and cleaving a bright red gash into the head of a man. He brought his sword up and down again and again. There was a moment of silent terror in the crowd as people began to die. Then the screams began.

 Know Thine Enemy Well

    Act 2


    Interlude


    It was evening in Andaban. The sun had set. The room in the hospital was well-lit, but outside the sky was quickly turning a dark shade of blue, and early stars were coming out. A nurse walked through the infirmary room checking on patients. The door opened and Colonel Dansby stepped through. The colonel had visited Major Dryden every day in the evening for the last week and listened to his story intently. The Major was mostly recovered, but for a gunshot wound that he had taken in his shoulder which was slow to heal. Dryden tried to sit up as Dansby approached.


    ¡°No, please, don¡¯t get up, I insist, Major.¡± Dansby smiled, pulled up a chair, and sat next to Dryden¡¯s cot. ¡°Havelock has ridden as far as the road to Settru pass. He says the pass is open. He has reported enemy scouts. He believes their army is not far now. Perhaps another week or two away from Andaban.¡±


    Dryden grunted and sat himself up, ¡°What preparations have been made, sir?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t concern yourself with that, not yet. There is time. You still need to rest, Major.¡±


    They spoke for a time of home. Both of the men were from the city of Marrowick, on the coast of Vastrum just north of the border with Fyranis. They spoke of gentler times, of taking a pint in the pub, of watching the ships heaving into port, of the cool summer breeze and the rains that fell the rest of the year. They spoke of pretty girls in their summer dresses and long braids, and of picnicking among the wildflowers in the green forest during spring. Green was a rare colour in these lands. Rain was nearly as rare. Lovely girls in summer dresses were rarest of all here. Perhaps it hadn¡¯t always been so in this land, but a thousand years of conquest had made it thus. A thousand years of plunder and taking and sucking the land of its aethium had made it a hard land, a land without laughter or smiles.


    When they were done reminiscing about home, Dansby grew serious, ¡°I need to know about the necromancer, Dryden. I know Kurush now, or at least I think I understand him. But this necromancer of his, who is he?¡±


    ¡°First of all, he¡¯s a she,¡± Dryden said frowning.


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    There was silence for a moment, Dansby¡¯s face showed the barest hint of surprise, ¡°Who is she, then? What must I know of her?¡±


    ¡°Her name is Aisa An-Beya. She is powerful in her own right, both within their clan and as a witch. She commands dark powers, made stronger by her rage against us.¡±


    ¡°Their clan? She is related to Kurush, then?¡±


    ¡°They are twins. She is his sister. It was not Kurush who forced the initial engagement. It was her. He was content to let us leave, I think. She did not act alone, some of Kurush¡¯s warlords were her own creatures. We know so precious little about them, only what we learned as...¡± Dryden paused mid-sentence, ¡°May I speak candidly, Colonel?¡±


    ¡°Of course, speak your mind, Major.¡±


    ¡°How does any of this help? We have perhaps a week now before they arrive in force. Would it not be prudent to plan for the fight? To drill soldiers? To¡­¡±


    Dansby interrupted him, ¡°Let me ask you, at the start were your soldiers well drilled? Did they have polished buckles? Were you well supplied for the journey, aside from the trouble with the quartermasters? Were your horses fit for combat? Were your guns clean and your powder horns full?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, it is as you say, mostly.¡±


    ¡°They say you must know your enemy well in order to win. I think that is true. You say yourself that you had little knowledge of the enemy. You were unprepared for the fight to come. You knew not even where the sword stroke would first fall or who would hold the sword.¡±


    ¡°I pray you are not intending to impugn my honour, sir,¡± Dryden said defiantly.


    ¡°Not at all. Blackwater was a doddering old man. Belfair was a belligerent fool. Good officers had their hands tied by poor orders, neglect, and a lack of knowledge of who their enemy was, or how they would fight. Is that not so?¡±


    Dryden¡¯s silence said that Dansby was correct.


    ¡°I will not be ignorant. My men are being drilled now by good officers. We are well supplied. We have plans within plans for the defence of this city. Our brass is well-polished if that kind of thing tickles your fancy. We have walls around the whole of Andaban, which you did not, and we sent messengers south to the headquarters in Kathalamanyr as soon as you arrived. This city may be small, but it is better equipped than Vurun to withstand a long siege. They will be forced to attack. They are mostly light cavalry. You said you spiked your cannons, thus, they have no artillery. If they besiege us, we will be relieved within months. If they attack us, they will be slaughtered by grapeshot and ranked musket fire. They have a weapon, though, that could overwhelm all the plans that I have made. If we are to win, then I must know that witch.¡±


    ¡°I understand.¡± Dryden said, ¡°What do you want me to tell you next?¡±


    ¡°The retreat out of the city, tell me of that. Where did things go wrong?¡±


    ¡°A better question, colonel, is whether anything at all ever went right.¡±

 The Honour of Fools

    Chapter 17


    Bodies littered the main road of Vurun. Hundreds had been ridden down and killed or crushed in the surge of Vuruni trying to flee the slaughter. Many were men. Some were women and children. Many had come to witness the army leave. A few had come to throw stones and riot. Dryden suspected that few of the men who had attempted violence could be counted among the dead. Most of the violence had occurred at the rear of the army where the 13<sup>th</sup> and the rangers had been mobbed by angry crowds.


    Now Dryden sat atop his bay mare looking at the carnage around them. His hands shook, both from the exertion of the killing and from the shock. He had been the one who ordered the fighting. He had tried to stand his men down, but he¡¯d felt fear and anger at the prospect of being dragged from his horse. There was no time now to process this. He shoved down the feeling of helplessness and grief, gripped his sword handle, clenched his jaw, and turned back to his men who had reassembled and were assessing their losses.


    ¡°Flint, report!¡±


    His sergeant rode up, ¡°Two troopers dead. Another dozen wounded.¡±


    ¡°How did they die?¡± Dryden asked. It wasn¡¯t important anymore. When, or if, he was able to write letters home to parents about their deaths, he wouldn¡¯t tell them how they died, only that they died conducting themselves with honour in battle.


    ¡°They fell and were trampled, sir,¡± Flint answered.


    ¡°Can the wounded ride?¡±


    ¡°Most can ride, yes sir. Two can¡¯t, so we¡¯re loading them into carts now. What of the dead, sir?¡±


    ¡°Leave them where they lie.¡±


    There was no answer from the sergeant. The rest of the column was moving slowly away from them.


    Lieuteant-Colonel Havor rode up, accompanied by the wizard Mar, and his manservant Rathma, ¡°Dryden, are the men ready to move?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, sir. Just tallying up our losses.¡± Dryden anticipated the next question, ¡°Two, sir, and two wounded who cannot ride.¡±


    ¡°Very good. With me, Dryden. We need to speak.¡±


    Dryden kicked his mare and rode up alongside Havor. The small group of four moved up the line, picking their way past bodies in the street. Dryden¡¯s horse was tired. She was a four-year-old mare that he had named Rosie, after a childhood friend, one of the children of the serving staff that worked in his family¡¯s estate. When they were eleven they had been caught kissing. It was a moment of childhood innocence, but her family was moved away afterwards. Lord Starlington could not have his son falling in love with a serving girl. He never knew what became of Rosie, and he thought of her often. Rosie was a good horse, sturdy and quick, with a mischievous temperament. She also knew when work was needed. Those traits reminded him of his childhood friend. Somehow, even after the fight, she was still lively, and she picked her way through the street, easily keeping up with Havor¡¯s much fresher steed.


    For a time Havor didn¡¯t speak. They passed men and carts until they were back at the front of the 13<sup>th</sup>, ¡°We have a problem. We still haven¡¯t seen any hide or hair of The Company regiments. The last we had heard, they refused to leave their fort. We had sent messengers explaining the situation in detail but received only terse replies. They don¡¯t want to lose the aethium, though I doubt they¡¯re willing to die for it. I need someone, you, to go pay them a visit. This road will take us within a mile of their factories. When we get close, ride out, meet them, give them any reasonable assistance they might require, then return, ideally with them, and meet up with our rearguard. The Brigadier asked specifically for you, Major. Take Wilson¡¯s squadron. This army isn¡¯t going anywhere fast, catching up ought not to be difficult, eh, Major?¡±


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    ¡°Indeed, sir,¡± Dryden replied curtly. He thought to ask why not take Pugh¡¯s squadron. They had seen the least action on the day. They would be fresh where Baker and Wilson¡¯s squadrons might be tired. Still, at least he did not send Baker¡¯s squadron which had seen the most action.


    Dryden met up with Captain Wilson at the head of the second squadron. Wilson was a quiet and serious man. He had light blonde hair and blue eyes. He had a long nose that was bent from being broken more than once. He was usually all business, unlike the other captains. He was often given tough jobs that put his squadron out on its own. He was competent but not exceptional as an officer. Give him a job, he¡¯d do it as instructed. To the letter.


    ¡°Morning, Captain.¡± Dryden greeted his junior officer.


    The man saluted crisply and Dryden nodded in return, ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve a job to do.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, sir. What are our orders?¡±


    ¡°Rescue those mad Company bastards. They¡¯re refusing to come out of their fort; don¡¯t want to give up their aethium.¡±


    ¡°Very good, sir.¡±


    As they were speaking a sergeant yelled out, ¡°Look, sir!¡± He pointed his finger in the direction of the V.A.C. fort. Smoke was beginning to rise over the city.


    ¡°Blood and hounds,¡± Dryden swore under his breath.


    ¡°Do you think the fort is under attack?¡± Wilson asked.


    ¡°Could be. Wilson, ready your squadron. We¡¯ll be riding out sooner rather than later, I should think.¡±


    A bugle sounded and the men of the 3<sup>rd</sup> squadron began forming up to ride deeper into the city, towards the fort and the factories, where the Company was holed up. Dryden continued to watch the smoke which billowed larger, the smoke darkening. Eventually, it took on an indigo glow and the purple-blue iridescent smoke filled the sky above the city.


    ¡°Major, I do believe they¡¯re burning the aethium,¡± Captain Wilson observed.


    Somewhere along the line, a musket fired, then another. Then many together, a roar of smoke and blazing gunpowder, all towards the edge of the street. A rider and horse came galloping along the line, ¡°Skeletons coming from the city! The dead are coming!¡±


    ¡°Major?¡± Captain Wilson asked, looking for orders.


    ¡°This changes little.¡± Dryden offered, ¡°Whatever else is happening, we must let it play out here. Come, let us go rescue those Company men.¡±


    ¡°Sir!¡± Wilson responded and nodded curtly. He turned to one of his sergeants, Sergeant Pell, ¡°We¡¯re moving out. Sound the boots and saddles.¡±


    The sergeant took his bugle and blew a few short notes on it, ones which Dryden found almost comforting now. He took his place at the head of the line with Captain Wilson, Sergeant Pell, and a standard bearer. The man with the regimental colours was a young man, perhaps only sixteen. He had pink cheeks and sad blue eyes. He wore his shako slightly offset, tilted over just a bit, as was the style with younger troopers. ¡°Your name?¡± Dryden asked.


    ¡°Private Harper, sir.¡±


    He nodded to the young man, ¡°Well Harper, keep those colors flying straight and true.¡± The younger soldiers required admonition, he had often found. Carrying colours was an honour not usually given to young men. The boy must have been brave to have earned it so early in his career.


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± The boy said, looking proud, ¡°I will, to the end, sir.¡±


    Dryden turned to the Captain, ¡°Take us out, then, Captain Wilson.¡±


    The Captain raised his sabre and brought it down, pointing it towards a side road that split off to the north, towards the V.A.C. fort and its factories, ¡°Third squadron! With me!¡± He yelled, as loudly as the dignity of his rank would allow.


    Bugles sounded behind them. Orders to ride were bellowed by sergeants. Dryden kicked Rosie¡¯s flanks, and away they went. One more time into the belly of the city. One more visit to the charnel house that was Vurun. One more time to go rescue fools. One more time for duty and honour and all the other mad things that king and country demanded. Damn them, damn them all.

 We Must Away

    Chapter 18


    The avenue was narrow but thankfully empty as Dryden led Captain Wilson¡¯s squadron down the lane. He had been this way many times over the two years that he had served in Vurun. It was one of the better ways to go between the Red Fort and the V.A.C. fort which was the Company¡¯s headquarters in the city. He had gone on patrol frequently between the various forts of Vurun, which now stood empty and unguarded. Now he went down the lane one more time. The same lane on which they had first encountered the undead that now plagued the dark places of the sprawling city. He rode onward. It wasn¡¯t far, now. Burning indigo smoke continued to billow and darken the skies above. It had looked distant when they began, but now it loomed over them as they approached the Company¡¯s aethium district. The fire was spreading too, they could tell. The smoke from the aethium warehouses was indigo, but the fire burning the buildings was thick and black as treacle. The men did not speak as they rode. Even the horses refused to whinny or neigh. The only sound was the pounding of hooves on the dirt road and the sound of wind as they passed rows of Vuruni hovels. Then, in the distance, the first retort of gunfire was heard, followed by a volley of musket fire. A cannon roared. Dryden spurred his horse to a gallop, and the men followed with him.


    The lane turned a final time, and the V.A.C. fort came into view. It was a low fort made of earthworks and brick. It was not one of the old forts built by ancient conquerors. Instead, it was a modern fort built in the shape of a star, made to withstand cannon barrages and provide defenders enfilading angles of fire down onto those who would assault it. Dryden could see now that those angles served them well. Hundreds of skeletons were presently assaulting the walls, climbing over one another to get up to the men in the fort. Because of the nature of the star fort, the defenders were able to fire into the rear of the mindless skeletons. These undead were no threat to the soldiers in the fort but prevented their leaving. Perhaps that was the point.


    ¡°13<sup>th</sup>, form a line!¡± Dryden yelled back at the men riding with him. He could tell his horse was tired, but Rosie was a sturdy steed, well suited to the rigours of war. He slowed his horse and men quickly rode in and began to form a line for a charge. Though the road widened into a broad avenue as it approached the V.A.C. fort, they could not fit many horses shoulder to shoulder, their front was perhaps only two dozen men wide. It was deep, however. It would have to be good enough. They wasted no time. As soon as they were lined up, the order to charge was given on the bugle, and the line moved forward. They went slowly at first, staying together in close formation. Then, slowly speeding up to a canter, a trot, and finally a gallop. They did not go as fast as the horses were able. It was all they could do for the mass of mounted horse to move as one. This was no elegant battlefield charge. They were crammed together in the street and riding against a mass of moving bone.


    Dryden¡¯s heart pounded. The thunder of hooves matched the rhythm in his chest. He pointed his cavalry sabre out in front of him, using it as a kind of lance, as did all the troopers in the front row. Time seemed to slow just before they hit. Skeletons with darkly glowing eyes turned to face them. Some held ancient spears and swords. Their jaws opened in a noiseless battle cry, but the dead made no sound. Dryden found himself bellowing a wordless cry as the horses slammed home into the skeletal ranks. The momentum of the horses was not easily slowed by the dry bones. Ribcages and skulls crunched in the impact. Skeletons fell into heaps and clattered as they collided with the weight of the horses. They were trampled under the hooves of the steeds. By the end of it, several horses and men had fallen, but their skeletal foes had been vanquished. Groups of troopers were dispatched to clean up the remaining skeletons. It was simple enough work for men on horseback.


    A voice called down from the top of the wall, ¡°Ahoy, 13<sup>th</sup>!¡± It was a man in a black uniform. The uniform was that of a Company soldier and he wore the gold epaulettes of a colonel. Dryden recognized him as the man who had accompanied Lady Belfair at the ball. He was Colonel Hood. He had only met the man once and had not been formally introduced. He knew him by reputation alone. He was a young lord, an Earl, and to Dryden¡¯s understanding, a fine officer. He had gone the route of joining the V.A.C. rather than the King¡¯s army. His family was well entrenched in The Company. Half a dozen Hoods were colony governors, board members, or colonels in the V.A.C.


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    ¡°Colonel Hood, I presume.¡± He began, ¡°I¡¯m Major Dryden of the 13<sup>th</sup>. Brigadier Belfair and Lieutenant-Colonel Havor have sent me to ask if you would join us in our retreat from the city!¡± He shouted up at Hood.


    ¡°Indeed? So you¡¯re going through with it, then?¡± He shouted back.


    ¡°Even as we speak the army and colonists are retiring from the city. By sunset, you¡¯ll be alone in Vurun. Pray, come down and speak in person, or let me in so we can speak properly.¡± Dryden persisted.


    The colonel disappeared. A minute later the gate opened and he came striding out. He was a handsome young man. He had light brown hair, green eyes, and a pale thin face with slightly hollow cheeks. He was somewhat tall, and in his black uniform, he cut a striking figure against the billowing indigo smoke.


    His voice had the air of someone used to getting his way, ¡°So, you want us to accompany you on your little adventure down to Andaban, eh?¡±


    ¡°When we left them an hour ago, lead elements of the army were already making their way out of the city. Brigadier Belfair bids you to join us. He would see you and your men live, sir. This Kurush fellow has given us safe passage, as long as we go from the city. I had assumed you would, sir, since you burned your own aethium, that you had given up on staying.¡±


    Hood glanced back at the smoke, ¡°That wasn¡¯t us. I had assumed it was some of you fellows making a poor attempt to convince us to come out and flee with the rest of you.¡±


    ¡°It was not. If it was neither of us, then whom?¡± Dryden asked.


    The question was answered almost immediately. A small group of horsemen appeared. They were dressed in loose white clothing. They wore steel helms that covered their faces and were plumed with black horsehair. They were armed with very long lances. At the front was a man holding a white flag. It was Kal¡¯kuris. He left his men and kicked his horse over to where Dryden and Hood were standing.


    ¡°Major, it is good you have come. These Company curs refuse to leave.¡± His tone was far less accommodating and diplomatic than it had been the other times that Dryden had met the emissary.


    Hood scoffed, ¡°I will not be made to leave. We were invited. We have contracts. We have a fort, and arms, and are well-supplied. We can withstand you and your cavalry as long as it takes to bring relief.¡±


    ¡°You agreed to leave.¡± Kal¡¯kuris spoke to Dryden, ¡°Were these dogs not informed of this fact?¡±


    ¡°They were.¡±


    ¡°Then we have no choice but to take action.¡± He signaled to his men and a horn was blown.


    The warlord¡¯s cavalry seemed to pour suddenly from every side street, and from around the fort, filling every space. Every one of them was armed with jezail rifles and long lances. They were men with hard faces and sturdy mounts. Dark eyes flashed from beneath steel helms. Horse hair plumes danced in the breeze.


    ¡°Hold!¡± Dryden shouted. He moved his horse in front of Kal¡¯kuris, ¡°You promised us until today.¡±


    ¡°They will not leave.¡±


    ¡°We have until the end of today. Is Kurush not a man of his word?¡± Dryden was nearly shouting. There was no response, so he said it again, ¡°Is King Kurush not a man of his word?¡±


    Kal¡¯kuris spat on the ground next to Colonel Hood and grimaced, ¡°He is.¡± The words came from the man¡¯s lips with difficulty, ¡°Your time is short. When the sun falls behind the Korum mountains, every man of Vastrum left in this city will die.¡± He practically whipped his horse around and rode off down a side street. His horsemen followed with him. After only a few moments all was silent but the wind and the sound of hoof falls retreating into the distance.


    Dryden stared at Colonel Hood, searching for an answer in his face. He found none. The man would have been good at cards. As he waited for Hood to speak he noticed that the wind had changed. A gust whipped up from the east. It was icy cold and a chill ran down Dryden¡¯s spine. He looked up and saw that the cloud of smoke was shifting towards them with the wind now. Dryden could see a wall of flame and indigo smoke billowing towards them. He turned back to Hood, ¡°Sir, we must away.¡±


    Something in Hood¡¯s face broke seeing the flames turn, ¡°Fine. We¡¯ll go.¡±


    The men of the V.A.C. were nothing if not efficient. They were ready to go within the hour. They had already made many preparations as a contingency if they were forced to leave. Behind the 13<sup>th</sup> they marched out of their fort. Guns were spiked, stores they could not use were destroyed, and finally, the fort was lit ablaze, the smoke adding to that of the aethium fires. They left just ahead of the blaze as it smouldered through the Company¡¯s district. They met the rear of the army¡¯s column just before sunset as they departed the edge of the city. Dryden turned one last time and looked back, the last man to leave the city. The final rays of sun shone down, lighting up the smoke and indigo haze, as the city burned behind them.

 Then They Will Be Slaves

    Chapter 19


    The army camped on a hill next to the southern road that overlooked Vurun. Below them, a fire raged across the northwest corner of the city. Dark smoke billowed up where it mingled with the low dark clouds that blotted out the stars and moon. A cold wind blew from the east. The wind had changed the day before, now it blew cold from the Shan mountains that lay across the valley on the other side of Vurun. Most of the officers were abed in their tents. Dryden sat outside in the cold, the collar of his winter coat pulled up to protect his face. The army had set pickets out at half again the regulation distance and had put out twice as many. The guards had no fires to warm themselves. Dryden could have had a fire, owing to his rank, but he wanted to watch for the enemy and the light would blind his night vision, so he stayed far from the warmth. At least he had the great coat to keep him from catching a chill in the wind. He knew many of those in the sprawling army camp, especially the sepoys, would not be so lucky. Even less lucky would be the civilians.


    He heard footsteps approach from the camp. It was Colonel Havor, ¡°Good evening, John.¡± His commander greeted him informally.


    ¡°Jack.¡± He returned the greeting.


    ¡°Cold night.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, sir. Not so cold as to kill the horses, at least. Small favours.¡±


    ¡°Any sign of the enemy, Major?¡±


    ¡°There was a report from one of the pickets that they had sighted scouts on horseback before dusk. We¡¯ve heard naught else. Colonel, I fear we are outmatched here. I fear command does not respect our enemy as they should.¡±


    There was silence from Havor. It was the silence of a commander who agrees but is duty-bound to say nothing of his agreement, lest he foment mutiny. ¡°Come to your tent and get some sleep, John. We¡¯ll need it.¡±


    Dryden was bone-weary. He¡¯d been in the saddle all day long. He¡¯d fought two battles, one against mobs of poor Vuruni city-folk, and another against the undead. These victories felt inglorious. That made them even more exhausting. But the thought of more fights to come if Kurush went back on his word kept his mind from slowing. The guilt of what they¡¯d been forced to do to escape the city weighed on it too, but he pushed those thoughts aside, remorse would have to wait for another day. He finally assented, ¡°Aye. Sleep.¡± He turned and followed Havor back to the row of officer¡¯s tents.


    There were several fires lit. A small group of officers sat around it. He recognized Captain Pugh and Lieutenants Brine and Wolcott. Mar was there too, as was Chatham, the translator.


    ¡°I bid you good evening, gentlemen.¡± Havor nodded to them as he passed, and then went to his tent.


    Dryden saw through the tent flap that Roxana was in the tent, dressed in a robe. He was mildly surprised at Havor. It did not seem his normal behaviour, though he had to admit that the woman Roxana was a remarkable beauty. He also knew that often women in difficult situations might attach themselves to a man simply for safety. It was an awful bargain that women were faced with in dangerous times. He turned back to the men at the fire and sat. There was a pot with some kind of stew hanging over the fire. He realized he hadn¡¯t eaten since breakfast. His stomach growled.


    ¡°May I?¡± He gestured to the stew pot.


    ¡°Allow me.¡± Wolcott offered. He grabbed a bowl from a small stack, ladled some, and handed it over.


    There were chunks of meat that smelled like mutton, soft grains of barley, and a thick gravy. It smelled better than it looked. He took a bite. It wasn¡¯t fancy, but it would do. Food on the march was often far worse than this. He was sure that the food would not improve as they went. He ate two bowls, then bid the other officers good night and went to his tent. He didn¡¯t even realize he had slept when he was roused before dawn by Reveille, the high-pitched bugle calling the army to wake.


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    He was still dressed in his black cavalry uniform. He hadn¡¯t changed into his night clothes. It had been cold, and he had been too tired to bother. He reached for his sword and buckled it to his waist, pulled on his boots, put on his shako, and strode out of the tent again. The camp was awakening rapidly. Soldiers were taking down tents, cooking a quick breakfast, loading supplies back up, and preparing to move once again. The day would be a long one, they had to ride from this spot to one that the engineers had identified which was ten miles down the valley. It was a defensible spot with a wide plain on which to camp. Ten miles would have been easy for the army alone. With the civilians? He didn¡¯t know.


    Havor came out of the tent first. Roxana followed him in her trooper disguise. Everyone in the 13<sup>th</sup> knew about her by now. The rest of the army did not. Havor thought the fewer who knew, the better. She was a chip that Vastrum needed, for when they came to re-take Vurun someday. The new king wouldn¡¯t want to let her go. Havor was afraid that Blackwater and Belfair would hand her over if it came to it. He would likely face court martial for his actions; Belfair would not like being lied to. But, if he was successful in getting her out of the valley, then he would be lauded as a hero, the man who saved the Vuruni princess. He would likely be rewarded for that. So he kept her as secret as he could. His men were loyal to him.


    It didn¡¯t take long for the 13<sup>th</sup> to be ready to ride. Much of the rest of the army was ready too. The colonists were somewhat orderly. In less than an hour, most were ready to march. The civilian camp followers, however, were in chaos. The army left when it was ready. They would not wait. The Vuruni civilians trickled after them in a disordered line of refugees that stretched for miles. But, the order of march had not changed. The 13<sup>th</sup>¡¯s place was at the rear along with the 22<sup>nd</sup> Rangers. The V.A.C. soldiers had brought up the rear the day before with the Dragoons, but they did as they pleased, and marched off with the rest of the army.


    Two hours passed, and still, the full camp of refugees had not started their day. Some were still eating breakfast. A few were burying dead that had frozen in the night, there were more than a few. Some were still packing up their supplies. Others simply sat and wailed in grief as they watched their city burning below them. Some families with children were simply too slow.


    Dryden and Havor sat on their horses surrounded by officers and sergeants. Havor leaned over to speak to one of his officers, ¡°Lieutenant Brine, Get this rabble moving. We can¡¯t sit here all bloody day.¡±


    The order went down the line. Sergeant Flint came riding back with two dozen picked men. They carried the lathi sticks, the bamboo batons that the sepoys used for crowd control.


    ¡°Aye, sir, we¡¯ll get the job done.¡± He said as he passed.


    ¡°Chatham, go with them.¡± Dryden ordered, ¡°To translate their¡­ instructions.¡± He tried to phrase it diplomatically.


    He hated everything about this. Many of the people who remained were families. There were women and children here. The reality was that these people were not fit for this march.


    ¡°What do you want me to tell them?¡± Chatham asked.


    ¡°They must march now. We are leaving. If they do not march, they will be left. If they cannot march, they should return to Vurun.¡±


    The men with lathi sticks went on foot rousing people who were still sitting. The sticks were effective, leaving brutal welts where they connected. Few people ignored them. Chatham rode around speaking Vuruni, relaying the message. Dryden saw an old man seated on the ground crying. He could no longer walk. Some families got up and trailed after the long line of refugees, but some did not. A man stood with tears in his eyes, holding a child. He walked as close to the officers as he dared and spoke words in his own tongue. He held out the child to them.


    ¡°What is he saying, Chatham?¡± Havor asked.


    ¡°He begs you to take his daughter.¡±


    ¡°I cannot.¡±


    ¡°He says that they will be slaves if they return to Vurun. Kurush will make them slaves. They are the wrong clan.¡±


    ¡°Tell him, then they will be slaves.¡± Havor¡¯s voice wavered slightly as he said the words, ¡°Tell him, if he cannot follow us, to go back, we cannot help him now. He will die if he stays in this place.¡±


    Chatham translated the words and the man sat down and held his tiny daughter and sobbed. After a few minutes, the man stood, still holding his daughter. He went back to his small family and they turned and walked back towards the city, heads bowed, and joined a growing line of people who were returning to a home that burned, a home that would no longer have them. In less than fifteen minutes the rest of the camp was cleared of all those civilians who could go on. The Rangers went next. The Bloody 13<sup>th</sup> followed after.

 You Will Behave As Gentlemen

    Chapter 20


    The 13<sup>th</sup> Dragoons arrived at the second encampment just as dusk was falling. They passed two layers of pickets on the way into the camp. Ahead of them was a ragged trickle of Vuruni refugees fleeing the city with the army. They had been tasked with taking up the rear along with the 22<sup>nd</sup> Rangers, a company of skirmishers dressed in green and black who fought with rifles rather than smoothbore muskets. They were elite marksmen and they were able to move quickly to screen retreats and maneuvers.


    They were commanded by one Lieutenant Koen a middle-aged man recruited from the far southern colony of Durzan, which had a long history of colonization by different Western powers. He had reddish brown hair, green eyes, and a big chin covered with a five-o¡¯clock shadow, he was a tall and burly man with a powerful frame. As Dryden passed by, he overheard the burly Durzani speaking to Lieutenant Wolcott, ¡°Aye, it t¡¯aint right that we¡¯re bringin¡¯ up the rear boyo.¡±


    Dryden pulled his horse up, ¡°What¡¯s all this?¡±


    ¡°Oh, t¡¯aint nothin¡¯ Major, just chattin¡¯ with my fellow soldier.¡± The big man shot him a winning smile. Perhaps that had worked with other officers.


    ¡°Sir, if you have a concern, please voice it, but voice it to me rather than grumbling about it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, well, I just don¡¯t like that we¡¯re bringing up the rear every day.¡±


    ¡°Someone has to. Besides, you¡¯re a ranger, this is what you signed up for, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Aye. I don¡¯t like followin¡¯ these fuzzy bastards. They¡¯re slowin¡¯ us down. We should leave ¡®em behind.¡±


    ¡°That word. You¡¯ll not say it again. Not of our allies, at least.¡±


    ¡°What word, followin¡¯?¡± The big man gave him a shit-eating grin.


    Dryden dismounted from Rosie so fast he practically jumped from the mount. He pulled out a glove and slapped the man hard across the face, ¡°You know damn well what word I meant. You will respect your superior officer. Come to attention!¡± He shouted the words in the man¡¯s face.


    He snapped to attention, ¡°Apologies, sir.¡± He practically spit the word ¡°sir¡±.


    ¡°You will not say that bloody word. You will not denigrate our allies.¡± Dryden¡¯s jaw was clenched, it took everything he had not to slap the man again. ¡°You are dismissed, lieutenant.¡±


    The man saluted, turned, and marched off.


    Dryden turned to his own officer, ¡°Lieutenant. You will not engage in such talk again, yes?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Wolcott said before he too was dismissed.


    Havor rode up with Rathma and Roxana in tow, along with several other officers. Dryden put his foot in his stirrup, stood himself up, and slung himself back into the saddle. ¡°Sir.¡± He saluted.


    Havor nodded to him, ¡°What was all that about?¡±


    ¡°Just some disgruntled junior officers. They feel the refugees are slowing us too much.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not wrong. They were simply disrespectful in how they voiced it.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Look out for that one, though, John.¡± The colonel gestured to the Ranger¡¯s senior officer, ¡°I hear he¡¯s a right bastard. He¡¯s one of Belfair¡¯s bullies. Speaking of Belfair, he wants us in his tent.¡± Then he turned to those following him, ¡°Our billets are over there. Make yourselves at home.¡± He gave a slight smile to Roxana as he said the last part. She gave him a strained smile in return. Her eyes were cold when she looked at him. The small group rode off. Havor and Dryden went the other direction from them, off towards the general¡¯s tent.


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    The camp they rode through was mostly orderly. Campfires with pots of stew were cooking, men were eating, muskets were arranged in neat stacks that looked like little pyramids, and bedrolls and tents were neatly ordered as well. The camp went on for what seemed like miles along the slope of the hill. They were far from the river at the bottom of the valley now, so the land here was mostly barren, with only the occasional tree. The ground was rocky, however, and it was difficult terrain. Still, they were making the best of it. He could see, however, that the colonist camp was less well-ordered, and the area to which the refugees had been assigned could hardly be called a camp at all. Dryden also noted, that from this new campsite, the city of Vurun could not be seen anymore. For better or worse, they had left that place behind them.


    The general¡¯s tent was large and made from bright red cloth. It was spacious inside and done up to look like his office. General Blackwater had brought his whole desk. Both Blackwater and Belfair were seated at it in large comfortable-looking chairs. Blackwater looked haggard and pale. Belfair was sipping what appeared to be a gin and tonic. He looked up as they entered the tent.


    ¡°General Blackwater. Brigadier Belfair.¡± Havor said. Both he and Dryden removed their shakos and saluted crisply.


    Belfair saluted in return, then spoke first, ¡°Ahh, yes, come in, come in. We¡¯re still waiting on Colonel Gorst. I may as well start, though.¡± His tone was ominous, ¡°This afternoon, shortly after we arrived and made camp here, we received a guest. You remember Kal¡¯kuris, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. The emissary.¡± Havor nodded.


    ¡°Yes, well, he¡¯s created a bit of a dilemma for us, you see. The daughter of our friend, the late Shah Guranji has disappeared apparently. Damned unfortunate, you see, as Kurush intended to marry her.¡±


    ¡°What does that have to do with us, sir?¡± Havor replied haughtily.


    ¡°They think she¡¯s with the army,¡± Belfair said.


    ¡°What would make them think that?¡± Havor squirmed, which was uncharacteristic of him.


    ¡°Where else should she go? Her clan has been all but dismantled with the death of her father. The few friends she has are mostly trailing along behind the army as refugees.¡± Belfair grinned like a cat as he watched Havor squirming. ¡°The fact is, we know she¡¯s here.¡±


    ¡°What does it have to do with me?¡± Havor said.


    Blackwater had still said nothing since they entered the tent. Now the elderly white-haired general leaned forward and spoke, ¡°For gods¡¯ sake Jack, you¡¯re not fucking her are you?¡±


    Havor said nothing, he turned up his chin.


    ¡°You are! You bloody rascal, you!¡± Belfair began laughing loudly, ¡°Good on you, son. I don¡¯t bloody care about all that.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a bore, James. Stop being so crude and low.¡± Blackwater admonished Brigadier Belfair sharply, then he turned to Havor, ¡°This is serious. Jack, I cannot have you behaving in this manner. The new Shah wants her returned. I don¡¯t think we can stop him; he¡¯ll have her one way or another.¡±


    ¡°Have we no honour left, sirs?¡± Dryden spoke now, ¡°A lady, a princess no less, has asked for our aid in escaping a man who would rob her of her honour, and we simply throw her to the dog? By all the dead gods¡­¡± He let the thought trail off.


    There was silence in the tent. Then the tent flap opened and in walked Colonel Gorst, leading Roxana by the arm. She was still dressed in the black and white uniform of a cavalry trooper.


    ¡°Ahh, Colonel Gorst, thank you.¡± Blackwater said quietly, ¡°Please sit, Roxana.¡± He gestured to a chair.


    She sat.


    Belfair leered at Roxana, ¡°Well I see why you did it, Havor, you dog. She does look rather smashing in a trooper¡¯s¡­¡±


    ¡°Belfair, you will behave as a gentleman, or I will strip you of command on this very spot!¡± Blackwater nearly shouted the words at him. For a moment he was his old self again, the man that Dryden knew from his first years in the army when he was merely a lieutenant. Then he reeled and nearly fainted and sighed back in his chair. He took a few moments to recover. There was total silence in the room while he recovered. Then he spoke again, ¡°Very well. We will take her into our protection. I am a man of honour. Thank you, Major Dryden, for the reminder. From here forward, she will travel with the wives and daughters of the officers. Colonel Gorst, she will be with your daughter Julia. Disguise her as a servant.¡±


    ¡°I am no servant,¡± Roxana said defiantly.


    ¡°Yet, you will pretend to be one, and do it well, else I will return you to Kurush. The quality of your disguise will decide not only your fate. If they discover our deception, well, it doesn¡¯t bear thinking about.¡± Blackwater spoke softly, but firmly.


    Gorst then led Roxana from the tent by her arm, presumably to find where his daughter Julia was camped among the colonist families.


    ¡°Jack, what I am to do with you, then?¡± Blackwater frowned at him, ¡°Were our situation not so precarious I¡¯d remove you from command and court martial you. As it stands, I must have my cavalry commander, and I must have the 13<sup>th</sup> whole and in fighting shape. At such a time as we return to the safety of Andaban, you will be demoted. For now, the 13<sup>th</sup> is yours. Now leave my tent, all of you. I must needs retire.¡±


    The whole army moved again the next day. They trudged through an icy easterly wind that blew harder with every step. Refugees turned to walk home in the hundreds, knowing they would be made slaves. It was still day when the 13<sup>th</sup> rode in at the end of the line. As evening came, great clouds full of moisture rolled in from the east, and just after the last light fled from the sky, the first snowflakes began to fall.

 This Land Has No Mercy

    Chapter 21


    ¡°Sir, they¡¯ve no winter clothing.¡± Gorst insisted strongly.


    ¡°Well, they should have thought of that before they followed us into the mountains in winter,¡± Blackwater said coldly.


    ¡°Sir, I am not speaking only of the refugees but also the sepoys, our own soldiers.¡±


    ¡°Ahh, yes, I see your point.¡± He replied, ¡°Still, what do we have to give them? We are ill-supplied ourselves. See what you can scrounge up from the baggage train and the colonists. Perhaps they have extra clothes to give. If there¡¯s not enough, give what can be spared to the sepoys.¡±


    ¡°Very good, sir.¡± Gorst¡¯s tone was sceptical.


    Dryden stood uncomfortably at the back of the tent waiting for his turn to speak with the old general. Reports had come in from some of the pickets that they had encountered walking skeletons. A problem they had thought left behind in Vurun.


    ¡°Anything else, Captain?¡± Blackwater asked Gorst.


    ¡°It¡¯s colonel, sir, and no, that was all.¡± Gorst corrected.


    ¡°Indeed. Apologies, Marcus. I forget myself at times.¡±


    ¡°Think nothing of it, General.¡±


    The white-haired general nodded to his colonel who turned on his heel and left the tent. Dryden waited at attention for Blackwater to acknowledge him. After a moment the old man looked up with a start, almost surprised that he was standing there.


    ¡°Ahh, John. Please, sit.¡± He gestured to the chair opposite him, ¡°You have something for me?¡±


    Dryden sat, surprised at the lack of formality, ¡°Yes. There have been reports of undead at the outer pickets.¡±


    The old general sighed, exasperated, ¡°Not this nonsense again, John. It¡¯s just old soldier¡¯s superstition.¡±


    ¡°Sir, I¡¯ve seen them myself. The dead walk in Vurun. We¡¯ve already doubled the guard, but Colonel Havor wanted you to hear of it.¡±


    The old man sighed and sat back in his chair, ¡°Doubled the guard. Good, good.¡± He closed his eyes as if the subject wearied him more than any other. He changed the subject, ¡°John, how are your sons?¡±


    Dryden sat confused, ¡°My sons, sir?¡±


    ¡°Yes, you have two of them if I recall correctly?¡±


    ¡°No, sir, I have no children.¡±


    ¡°Lord Starlington, I think I would remember.¡± He scoffed.


    ¡°Sir, Lord Starlington is my father. I am his second son.¡±


    ¡°Good gods, really?¡± The general sat forward in his chair and squinted at the Major, ¡°I must confess, my memory is not what it was. Well, then, how is your father?¡± He asked, changing the subject again.


    ¡°He was well last I heard.¡± It had been a nearly year since he had received a letter from his father. They did not communicate often.


    Blackwater nodded to him, he looked weary, ¡°Well then, you are dismissed, Major. I must take my rest. Send in my servant when you leave, if you please.¡±


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    ¡°Very well.¡± He stood and saluted. Blackwater did not salute in return, he was already lying back in his chair with his eyes closed.


    A handful of other undead were reported through the night. None made it through the outer pickets. Meanwhile, the snow piled up. By first light, half a foot of snow had fallen. The morning was bitterly cold and light flurries of snow still fell. At least the wind had died. The sounds of the army preparing to move in the morning were muffled by the snow and the world had taken on an ethereal quality.


    Dryden was checking on Rosie when he was surprised to see that little activity was occurring in the direction of the refugee camp. They had been camped somewhat near the 13<sup>th</sup>, on the back edge of the army. He walked over to the morning campfire around which several officers and sergeants were eating their breakfast.


    ¡°The refugee camp is too quiet, I¡¯d like to check on them. Mr. Wolcott, Mr. Camford, you¡¯re with me. You, Sergeant Vane, gather a few troopers. If you can locate Mr. Chatham, please bring him too.¡± The grizzled veteran turned and went off to do what he was told.


    Lieutenant Camford was one of Captain Wilson¡¯s junior officers. As soon as Vane was out of earshot, he turned to Dryden, ¡°Sir, why not let the refugees tend to themselves? Besides, I¡¯m sure they¡¯re fine, just a little bleary-eyed this morning and all that. Perhaps you¡¯d like us to brew them all a piping cup of coffee, eh?¡± There were murmurs of agreement from the other officers around the campfire.


    ¡°They¡¯re people, Camford. It was damned cold last night. It¡¯s the right thing to do. I should think that¡¯s all the reason we need. But Mr Camford, if you¡¯re not up for the job, then I can find a volunteer, what do you say?¡±


    There were no further complaints. A group of troopers were rounded up by Sergeant Vane with Chatham following behind them. They set out towards the area where the refugees were camped. There were a few tents here and there. A smattering of figures moved, draped in cloaks and blankets. A few fires smouldered with whatever the people had found to burn. Somewhere a donkey brayed. Out in the refugee encampment, Dryden could see lumps in the snow. They pressed on through the drifts that had piled up. It had snowed perhaps half a foot, but it had also been blown into tall drifts that came up to Dryden¡¯s waist.


    ¡°Hullo there!¡± Dryden called out to a figure that seemed to be awake. The man didn¡¯t seem to respond.


    Lieutenant Camford tripped on something and fell into the snow, ¡°Damn it all!¡± He cursed. He began to stand up and disentangle himself, ¡°Bloody hell.¡± He said as he stood. Suddenly he recoiled with a gasp.


    Dryden saw what had frightened him. The man had tripped on a body frozen solid. It had been under what appeared to be a lump in the snow. He stared for a while. They all did, pondering what this meant. His eyes scanned the field taking in the thousands of lumps under the snow. Lieutenant Wolcott dropped to a knee as realization took him, ¡°By the gods. Are they all dead?¡±


    ¡°Dig them out, see if any have lived,¡± Dryden ordered. Nobody moved at first. They were too stunned, ¡°Damnit, Vane, get the men moving. Dig them out. Find survivors. Camford, find me more men.¡± Camford didn¡¯t move. Dryden slapped Camford across the face. ¡°Damn you, you bloody fool, go to camp, tell Havor what¡¯s happened, and bring more bloody men. We need to find survivors.¡±


    Dryden fell to his knees and began to dig snow with his gloved hands. The snow was fresh and powdery. Under the snow was a young man. The face was cold and frozen. The man didn¡¯t move or breathe. Dryden went to the next lump of snow and began scooping, knowing what he would find. A girl, her eyes closed as if sleeping, but as cold and dead as the last. One trooper who was busy digging suddenly stood and shouted, ¡°He¡¯s alive!¡± Dryden rushed to help. Shortly they had the man out of the snow and were carrying him towards a warm fire. More men were arriving now, helping to dig, and not only dragoons but men from other regiments. They spent the rest of the day searching the camp for the living. Of two thousand Vuruni refugees, they found perhaps fifty alive. The rest had frozen in the night. The sepoys had lost men as well, dozens of them had died from cold in the night too. Many more had lost fingers or toes to frostbite. The winter gear of the Vastrum soldiers kept them from freezing. The colonists were well-equipped too. There were some with frostbite, but none of the soldiers or colonists had perished from the cold.


    That night as the officers ate dinner, few spoke. This was only the beginning. They had to climb through the Korum Mountains by way of Settru Pass. They were deep into autumn now. The weather was not going to improve. Dryden took a bite of his soup and wondered if this was what Kurush¡¯s sister meant when she had said ¡®the land answered to no king¡¯. Then came a sound from outside that was like the howling of a hard wind whistling through the door. All the officers stopped eating to listen. It came again, but it was not the wind. As they listened the noise became a scream, and then another. Before they could act, a bugle sounded an alarm, followed by the cry, ¡°Dead in the camp!¡±

 Symphony of the Damned

    Chapter 22


    The officers rushed from the tent. Outside in the cold snowy camp confusion reigned. Troopers were standing looking in the direction of the screams, fear in their eyes. It was the first Dryden had seen that fear from his men. Mist now blanketed the camp thickly. It writhed like a living thing. Only the cooking fires of the camp burned through the hoary frost. A bugle sounded again from further off, towards where the infantry was camped. Somewhere off in the distance a musket fired, then another. More screams cut through the misty night.


    ¡°Sergeant!¡± The lieutenant colonel half growled half shouted, his eyes hard.


    ¡°Sir!¡± Sergeant Locke appeared seemingly from nowhere.


    ¡°Sound the bugle, get the men formed up¡­¡± Before Havor could finish giving orders someone stumbled out of the frozen mist. The figure was cloaked in the garb of a Vuruni noblewoman, a colourful sari, and golden jewellery. Her hands stretched out towards the soldiers. Her face was blue. Her eyes were cold. Her mouth gaped wide, but no sound came from it. She lunged at Lieutenant Camford from Wilson¡¯s squadron. Everyone was rooted to their spot. Dryden found he could not move, he was frozen with something between surprise and fear. Camford tried to step aside, but he was slow. He tripped over something under the snow. As he fell, the woman bowled him over and began to bite him savagely on the neck. He screamed and struggled beneath her. His scream became a cry and then a gurgle.


    Adrenaline coursed through Dryden. He heard the voice of his father, ¡°Fight, damn you!¡± He could have sworn the voice was real as if his father stood beside him. He ripped his sword from his scabbard. He moved to help the lieutenant, but Sergeant Locke was faster. The sergeant kicked the woman off Camford and ran her through the chest with his sabre. The woman screeched, a sound issuing from her chest. Men near her held their ears. The screech was deeply disturbing. Dryden stepped forward and hacked her head from her body. Her cold eyes went dark, and she was no more. Camford still writhed on the ground holding his neck, blood oozing from between his fingers.


    ¡°Get the lieutenant to the surgeon, if you please,¡± Havor commanded. Nobody moved at first. He reiterated himself, ¡°You there, troopers, take your officer to the damned surgeon!¡± His voice was hard and commanding. They hopped to obey.


    ¡°Blood and hounds. What was that?¡± Captain Baker asked once they were gone.


    It was Mar who spoke, standing at the entrance to the officer¡¯s mess tent, ¡°One of our dead refugees. It seems our necromancer has no qualms about raising the recently deceased. They must be powerful indeed. I expect we¡¯ll see many more this night.¡± He raised a long cigarette to his lips and took a drag, puffing indigo smoke out into the night.


    ¡°There were thousands of dead, how can we face so many?¡± Baker asked.


    ¡°They can be killed, as you have seen. Kill them as one would any other monster. Cut off its head or burn it with fire.¡± Mar replied coldly.


    ¡°Sergeant Locke, did you forget your orders? Form up.¡± Havor said.


    ¡°Apologies, sir.¡± The sergeant turned and began grabbing troopers from their tents and shouting orders. At first, the men were frozen with fear, as the officers had been, but as sergeants began to rouse them and pull them into formations, instinct and training took over, and the men began to act as soldiers should. The men of the 13<sup>th</sup> were formed into ranks. Muskets were loaded.


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    Off in the distance, more screams were heard. Guns fired haphazardly into the frozen night in other parts of the enormous camp. Among the cacophony of desperate fighting came the horrible screeches, like banshees or ghasts. The sound was from a nightmare. Primal. Awful. The screams of the dead were filled with the grief, agony, and hatred of the abandoned. It was not long before more dead came stumbling from the gloom. A volley was fired. The dead stumbled. Some fell. The second rank fired. More fell, but still they came, frozen hands outstretched towards the line of troopers. There was no time to load. The hands of the soldiers were too cold in the night. The dead were plodding and slow, but the men could not have reloaded if given all night to do so.


    Havor saw the problem at once, ¡°Bayonets!¡± He bellowed into the night.


    Mar was standing between Havor and Dryden, ¡°May I?¡± He asked, his voice the only one with no quaver in it. Dryden wondered if the man was truly fearless, or if something in the aethium calmed him.


    ¡°By all means,¡± Havor replied.


    The wizard removed his bicorn hat and handed it to Rathma who was standing in the dark behind the officers. The mage took his long cigarette from his mouth and held it out in front of him. He exhaled a puff of smoke and took a deep breath of the night air. He stepped forward in front of the line of soldiers. He paused dramatically, his hands up in the air. Finally, he began to wave his wand in front of him as if he were conducting an orchestra. Somewhere a symphony began playing. Dryden was not imagining it. Soldiers looked around for the source of the sound but found none. He recognized the music. It was Rachard¡¯s 9<sup>th</sup>. He had heard it performed once in the capital when he was a young man. It was a vigorous piece, grand and military in its sound. There was one other thing about it that Dryden remembered of the song. It used cannon as an instrument. The ethereal symphony echoed through the night, following and keeping time with the movements of Mar¡¯s make-shift conductor¡¯s baton. The dead continued towards the wizard. Hands grasping, mouths open. Just before the dead reached him, the song reached its crescendo, and the first shot exploded from his wand. The dead were blasted backwards by the spell. Supernatural cannon fire ripped through the ranks of undead in time with the music. It seemed an eternity. The spell fired off shots again and again. When the song was done, the field was quiet except for the occasional shot or cry from elsewhere in the great encampment.


    Mar turned and came back to Havor. He took a drag from his cigarette, ¡°I¡¯ll be in my tent.¡± Then he sauntered off. Dryden knew Mar would be exhausted. Sorcery took an incredible toll on the wizard.


    Some of the dead still crawled towards the line of men. ¡°Men of the 13<sup>th</sup>! Finish them off.¡± He shouted. The line moved forward, bayoneting those that still crawled or moved. Some moved with oil and torches, burning remains that continued to move even after being pierced. Once the field was quiet again, the men moved back towards the rest of the camp, helping to clear what undead remained. By the time the cold morning light first came over the horizon, the camp was silent once more.


    In the morning, Dryden found Havor back in his tent. Light filtered through the tent opening. It was just as cold inside as out. The small wood stove had gone out overnight. The colonel was wrapped in his greatcoat. His eyes were sunken and hollow and he looked haggard, ¡°Camford died in the night.¡± He said, ¡°News came from the surgeon just a moment ago.¡±


    ¡°Orders, sir?¡± Dryden asked.


    ¡°We¡¯re to break camp shortly.¡±


    ¡°The men need rest, sir, after last night.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, John, I am aware. They are our orders, however, and we must obey.¡±


    The camp was packed up. It was done efficiently. All were exhausted, but few complained. None wanted to linger in that place where the dead had risen so easily. General Blackwater led the soldiers out. He looked dignified as he rode, his head held high. The army and the colonists and the baggage train flowed past them, up the road towards the Settru Pass that led over the Korum. Without refugees to wait for, it went quickly. As always, it was the Bloody 13<sup>th</sup> that brought up the rear.

 The Witch鈥檚 Men

    Chapter 23


    The army camped again at a defensible spot another ten miles up the treacherous road that wound through the hills towards the mountain pass. Several carts were lost on the road, and a dozen more horses went lame. Two small cannons that had been dragged along behind a pair of oxen had to be abandoned when the road narrowed. Their crews spiked the guns and pushed them into a ravine so they could not be salvaged by the enemy. It was a long cold day, but at least no more snow fell, and no more dead came for them. The rear elements of the 13<sup>th</sup> were riding into camp for the evening when a rider came galloping up the road. Dryden watched the man arriving on horseback. Several troopers rode calmly to challenge his approach. After a moment they let the rider pass.


    It was an irregular cavalryman, a sepoy, employed by the Company as a scout. He rode a bone white horse. He was clothed in brightly dyed flowing silk robes and he carried a long curved blade called a tulwar. The man had a thick mustache and the chiseled dark-skinned face of a Dravani. He had bushy eyebrows, a sharp nose, and deep green eyes. He rode up to Dryden directly, ¡°Sir, are you in charge here?¡± His accent was rich and clear.


    ¡°I am Major Dryden of the 13<sup>th</sup> Dragoons, and you are?¡±


    ¡°Sazh Khad of Lieutenant Trezger¡¯s irregulars.¡± He offered no rank or official title. Such was often the case with the irregulars that were employed as mercenaries for the V.A.C., ¡°I was sent to scout for enemy movements.¡±


    ¡°You can give me your report. I¡¯ll pass it along.¡±


    ¡°Sir, sahib, I prefer to give my report in person, and to my own commanders.¡± The man¡¯s eyes pleaded. The man¡¯s horse danced under him, he tried to steady it.


    Dryden knew the man did not answer either to him or the commanders of the 7<sup>th</sup> Brigade. Colonel Hood commanded his regiment at the same functional rank as General Blackwater. Dryden could block the scout as he commanded the rearguard. He wanted the information that the scout had but felt that preventing his passage would be a poor showing, and might damage his relationship with the V.A.C. officers, ¡°Very well. You can report to your commanders, but I want to hear what you have to tell them. It seems of importance.¡±


    The man shrugged, ¡°Do what you like.¡± Then added a ¡°Sir¡± after a long pause.


    Dryden left Captain Baker in charge and then went with the scout. Together they picked their way through the encampment. Tents were being erected, campfires lit, carts secured, and livestock butchered for dinner. The 5<sup>th</sup> V.A.C. regiment was housed near the middle of the encampment. They found Colonel Hood and several of his officers in a command tent in the centre of their well-ordered camp.


    They stood and faced the door when Major Dryden entered followed by the scout named Sazh. There was no saluting, men of the King¡¯s Own armies did not salute to mercenaries. Instead, Major Dryden bowed to Colonel Hood. The man was a Lord, an earl.


    ¡°Welcome, Major.¡± Hood greeted him somewhat warmly, ¡°I see you¡¯ve brought our little scout home to us. Good on you.¡± Then he turned to the scout, ¡°Make your report, please.¡±


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    ¡°The enemy is shadowing the army. I saw the banners of three warlords.¡±


    ¡°Which ones?¡±


    ¡°Kujala, Zhigo, Thabaz.¡± He listed three names, ones that Dryden had yet to hear.


    ¡°Witch¡¯s men, one and all.¡± One of the officers said. He bore the insignia of a Company major. The man had a dark beard peppered with grey hairs. He was perhaps fifty years old. He had crow¡¯s-feet around deep brown eyes.


    ¡°Where are my manners? Major Dryden, this is Major Cushman. He runs the regiment for me most days.¡± Colonel Hood introduced the man.


    ¡°Pleased to make your acquaintance.¡± Dryden replied, ¡°Pardon me if I sound ignorant, but how do you know these things about our enemy? Why have you not shared this with us?¡±


    Cushman shrugged idly as he answered, ¡°You arrived, what, two years ago? I was stationed in Vurun a decade ago. We have a network of agents scattered across this land giving us reports. I understand you met the Fyrin that follows Kurush. He¡¯s just such an agent, excepting for the minor detail that he is our enemy. As for why we do not share? What good would it do? I hope you do not mind my candour, but Blackwater is senile and Belfair is a fool.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be too hard on the man, John.¡± Colonel Hood stopped his Major.


    Dryden looked at him, surprised that he had said John, which was his own name.


    Hood saw the confusion, ¡°You¡¯re both named John. Common name. Would that everyone in the world could have a unique name, but alas. That¡¯s why we have family names, I suppose.¡± He sighed and gestured to the table in the middle of the room. On it there was a map of Vurun, ¡°This is a game that has gone on for longer than you know, Major Dryden. A thousand years of conquest and rebellion. A dozen kingdoms have taken this place and been ejected. What is happening now has happened again and again, in some form or other. All for a little flower. With this flower, so goes the fate of kingdoms. We would be remiss in our stewardship of this great power if we did not do our best to understand the politics of this land. Allow me to explain.¡± He pointed to the map, ¡°Vurun. The Indigo City. The valley.¡± He pointed to several towns and forts in the north of the valley, ¡°Zundak, Kashma, Estran, Ishulla. Clan Dakal and Shah Guranji¡¯s base of power.¡± He pointed east of the mountains, ¡°Exiled clans. Old clans. An-Beya, An-Zhigo, An-Thabaz, and more. They found magic out there in the east, something both new, yet vastly ancient. The sister of Kurush, Aisa An-Beya is a practitioner, perhaps their most powerful. You¡¯ve seen what she can do. The Fyrans support them. Their plan? Cut us off from the flower and take it for themselves. The clans and warlords that follow Kurush, though, are not as united as they seem. Some follow his sister. Some follow him. Most follow along only for plunder. They will fall to strife within a year. Then we will return and take this place again.¡±


    ¡°Why are you telling me all this?¡± Dryden asked.


    ¡°You¡¯re a good officer and a good fighter. I¡¯m hoping once this is all done, you¡¯ll accept a commission in the V.A.C. working for me.¡± Hood shot him the barest hint of a smile, ¡°Of course, that all assumes we live through this.¡±


    Dryden was taken aback, ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say, Colonel.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say anything, just think on it. As for the news we received from our scout, I expect you¡¯ll share it with your commanders. I shouldn¡¯t think it will make much difference, as Cushman already expressed.¡± He turned away from Dryden, making it clear the audience was at an end, then looked back for a moment, ¡°Chin-chin.¡± That was all he said.


    Dryden made his way from the tent, mounted his bay mare Rosie, and rode back through the camp to where the 13<sup>th</sup> was bivouacked. He told Colonel Havor about the enemy warlords shadowing the army. He told him of what he had learned of the enemy, their politics, and of Aisa An-Beya. He said nothing of the offer to join The Company.

 Leave Them Where They Lie

    Chapter 24


    The first shot was fired at midday while the army was moving along an open plain at the bottom of a huge slope covered in rocky scree. Dryden was riding along chatting amicably with Lieutenant Wolcott, reminiscing about life in Marrowick, when suddenly the young man fell from his horse dead. Something wet spattered across Dryden¡¯s face. It was so sudden that the major barely reacted at first. Then, not a moment later, the retort of the gun could be heard. The shot had come from up in the rocky terrain. Someone nearby shouted, ¡°Sniper!¡± Men began leaping from their horses to find cover. Another shot rang out and a musket ball ricocheted off a rock nearby. Dryden followed the example of his comrades and dove behind a great boulder that was by the path. Then another shot rang out, and another. A man fell with a shout, and blood wetted his black uniform. Dryden peered out from behind the boulder and saw men up in the hills shooting with great long rifles, twice as long as the cavalry carbines that his men had. Some troopers attempted to fire back, but the distance was much too great. There was also no way for the cavalry to move up the slope, it was far too rocky for horse. More gunfire rained down.


    ¡°Hold your fire!¡± He heard Captain Baker shouting, ¡°You can¡¯t bloody hit them from here!¡± The men stopped shooting back after that. All they could do was weather the storm from hiding.


    Someone beside him went to pull Wolcott¡¯s body into cover. From the bloody bullet hole in his head and the way he lay on the ground, it was clear the man was dead. ¡°He¡¯s dead.¡± Dryden heard himself say, ¡°Get back to cover, or you¡¯ll soon join him.¡± As if to illustrate his point, another bullet smacked into the dead body of Wolcott. The men trying to pull him to cover jumped back behind the rocks.


    Further up the line, he saw Havor still mounted on his horse as bullets whizzed around him. The man was wielding a cavalry sabre as if he could somehow strike back at their jezail-wielding enemies. Mar was hiding behind a rock the same as the rest, though he was slowly rolling one of his aethium-laced cigarettes. Ahead of the 13<sup>th,</sup> a group of rangers were attempting to make their way up into the rocks to attack the ambush. They were brave men, but they too were forced to take cover halfway up the rock-strewn slope. To their credit, they were now in firing range, their own long accurate rifles allowed them to provide some return fire. But the jezails had the advantage of high ground. A few rangers would not be enough.


    ¡°Someone get Havor off his damned horse!¡± Dryden shouted.


    A trooper stood to obey but was immediately shot. He fell to the ground groaning, a bullet in his shoulder. The bullet had been intended for Havor and would have had him, but for the trooper who had stood. Suddenly Havor turned and pointed with his sword, ¡°Riders!¡± He shouted, ¡°13<sup>th</sup> mount up, damn you! Mount up!¡±


    ¡°Blood and thunder! They¡¯ve got us pincered!¡± Baker shouted. It wasn¡¯t just the 13<sup>th</sup> Dragoons that were surrounded. Riders were streaming out of ravines a mile away. They had time to form up, but the jezails had them pinned. Dryden knew they were damned if they mounted up, and double damned if they didn¡¯t. Furthermore, most of the riders were not making for the cavalry, but rather for the middle of the line where the baggage train and colonists were. Shouts of fear and panicked drovers began to move quickly and out of order. Bedlam erupted all along the line as the enemy riders kicked into a gallop.


    ¡°Fuck!¡± Dryden shouted, ¡°Mount up you bloody bastards!¡± He screamed and leapt onto Rosie. Men all down the line did the same. Some fell to the hail of jezail fire, but most did not.


    Havor had kicked his horse forward and now men were trailing after him in a chaotic line that angled to intercept the enemy light cavalry. He was waving his sword and bellowing an incoherent rallying cry, ¡°With me! 13<sup>th</sup> with me!¡±


    Dryden kicked his horse and followed. All the troopers did. He saw that the sepoy cavalry was coming too, and the enemy horsemen wheeled to face them. They had mounted up too despite the jezails. The infantry were coming out from cover and organizing in a line to meet the enemy. Men were shot down from behind by the long rifles positioned on the slope to their rear. The light cavalry of the enemy came hard and fast and came with long lances. The dragoons carried carbines and sabres, but the sepoys had lances too. The line of sepoy cavalry collided head-on with the Vuruni horsemen. The thunder of the hooves, and then the collision shook the ground and reverberated in Dryden¡¯s chest. Spears snapped and pierced men and horse alike. Then the 13<sup>th</sup> hit the enemy¡¯s flank. They were not in formation, so the charge lacked some of its impact, but the Dragoon charge was utterly fearless.


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    Dryden speared a mounted soldier through the side as they came. His horse collided with theirs and the shock nearly tore him from his saddle. The man¡¯s horse was knocked aside and Rosie carried on gamely. The momentum was slowed, but he swung at the next man who was engaged with a sepoy. The enemy was cut down. The slain Vuruni officer¡¯s yellow sash and bright silk robes were stained with blood. Dryden looked around and found the enemy¡¯s standard. He kicked Rosie¡¯s flanks and yanked the reins towards it. She pushed hard, bowling through men and horse alike. A young man held the standard in his hands. He had golden eyes and black hair. The flag of the Vuruni was a black field with a golden eagle gripping a snake. Dryden¡¯s sword ripped into the standard bearer¡¯s neck. Their flag fell. A man on a horse, in a golden helm, wielding a talwar, came screaming at him with a battle cry full of rage. Dryden ducked under the blow and steered his Rosie into the enemy¡¯s warhorse. Rosie bowled him over, then trampled him, her hooves landing heavily on his chest. Still, he was not dead. He pulled himself to his feet. Dryden didn¡¯t give him a chance, he swung the horse around through the chaos of battle and cleaved the man¡¯s head in. Then the tide of men and horses carried him away. He hacked at the enemy again and again until a horn sounded and the enemy faded away, their survivors riding off. A bugle sounded and the red of battle faded from his eyes. Men and horse lay dying or dead all across the field of battle. Among the dead stood the survivors, sepoys, horses, and dragoons. Somehow Dryden and his horse had come through unscathed. He didn¡¯t really understand how. There wasn¡¯t a scratch on him. He turned to find his men.


    The bugle sounded again, the call to form up. He found Havor walking without a horse, ¡°Damnit. They shot Gamalion out from under me. I loved that horse.¡± He sounded genuinely sad. A trooper nearby dismounted and handed his commander the reins. Havor nodded to the man and mounted the new steed, ¡°What¡¯s his name?¡±


    ¡°Commandant.¡±


    ¡°Very good, thank you trooper. Get yourself a new mount with the quartermaster.¡± They had many spare mounts that travelled with the baggage train.


    Exhausted men and horses were rallying to their commanders. Captains Baker and Pugh rode up, ¡°Orders?¡± They almost said together.


    ¡°What do we do with the dead?¡± Baker asked,


    Havor shook his head, ¡°We¡¯ve no time to waste on the dead. Leave them where they lie.¡±


    ¡°Should we not burn them?¡± Pugh added.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be long gone before the witch can wake them, I should think,¡± Mar answered for Havor.


    They turned and rode back to the road and the column, taking up their place at the rear of the army. The sepoy lancers had lost many more riders, and only a few survivors limped back to their place in the column. The jezails had stopped firing when the cavalry had engaged and then had melted back into the hills. The skirmish was over. Between the jezails and the cavalry battle, hundreds were either dead or wounded. Somehow the 13<sup>th</sup> had lost only two dozen in the skirmish. The injured were patched up and the dead were left to rot all across the plain and along the road. Soon the long column began to move forward again. The bloodied army soldiered on.


    The enemy came again at dawn. They came just as the army was decamping. They had found gaps in the pickets and had come up through the narrow ravines that cut the land like a maze. The enemy soldiers fired their jezails down into the army encampment from the tops of the hills. The tactic of sniping down on the army had worked well the day before. There were far more of them that morning than there had been the prior afternoon. The 13<sup>th</sup> Dragoons were on the far side of the large encampment, far from the range of the enemy snipers. Nonetheless, all the men found cover, not wanting to be picked off as before. The shooting went on through the morning. First, several units of sepoys were sent to deal with it, but they were repulsed twice. The assault only ended when Colonel Gorst led his regiment of Grenadiers up the hills to drive off the snipers. Casualties were heavy, but they saw the enemy off. The army set double pickets that night and did not move again until the following day.

 The Promises Of Kings

    Chapter 25


    ¡°Bandits, sir?¡± Gorst asked incredulously.


    The commander¡¯s tent was packed with two dozen senior officers. Even so, you could have heard a pin drop. Blackwater sat at his great desk that had been carried dutifully all this way.


    Brigadier Belfair cleared his throat, ¡°Sir, I think what the colonel is saying may have some merit. These were not simple bandits. We have to consider the possibility¡­¡±


    Blackwater cut him off, ¡°I will consider no such thing. Kurush gave his word that we would receive safe passage.¡±


    ¡°You would trust this warlord?¡± Belfair asked, keeping his temper in check.


    Havor stepped forward. In his hand, he held a bundle. Dryden was standing at the back of the tent, but even he could see the look on his colonel¡¯s face. The man threw the bundle down on Blackwater¡¯s spacious desk. The bundle unfurled, revealing the standard of the man that Dryden had slain. It was a black flag with a golden eagle, its wings outstretched, with a green viper gripped in its talons.


    ¡°What is this?¡± Blackwater asked.


    ¡°The standard of the clan Zhigo, at least that¡¯s what I¡¯ve been told. They are sworn to Kurush, and to his sister Aisa.¡±


    ¡°Where did you learn this? Have you been seeing that Vuruni woman again?¡± He frowned deeply at his cavalry officer.


    ¡°Sir, I must protest.¡± Havor began with a tone of righteous indignation.


    ¡°I provided this knowledge.¡± The voice came from the back of the room. Colonel Hood of the V.A.C. stepped forward.


    ¡°Did you now? And how did you come by it?¡± His tone was highly sceptical, bordering on rude.


    ¡°I have my sources,¡± Hood replied coolly.


    ¡°What sources?¡± Blackwater replied, annoyance in his voice.


    ¡°I decline to answer.¡±


    ¡°Damnit, I order you to tell me, I command it.¡± Blackwater hissed at him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t answer to you.¡± Hood said obstinately but calmly, ¡°I answer only to the governor and to the board of directors. You cannot command me. You cannot order me. Furthermore, outside the military chain of command, I outrank you as a Lord of the Chain. I¡¯m here with you out of an apparently foolish sense of obligation to my fellow countrymen and of a sense of self-preservation. If you mistrust me so, you ought to have left me and my men in our fort in Vurun.¡±


    ¡°I was ill-advised on that matter, apparently.¡± Blackwater glared at Belfair now, ¡°I declare again that these are bandits. We have been given safe passage by Kurush.¡±


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    ¡°But not by his sister, sir,¡± Dryden replied, surprised that he had spoken out of turn.


    ¡°Excuse me? Who said that?¡± The general demanded.


    Dryden pushed forward between two other officers, ¡°With all due respect, sir, I do believe that his sister¡­¡±


    Blackwater cut him off, ¡°His sister? Do not speak to me of his sister. She does not command his armies.¡±


    ¡°Apologies, sir, I forget myself,¡± Dryden said, and shrank back. He had spoken his piece. Blackwater had not listened, would not listen to reason. Even Belfair knew what was plain, that Kurush¡¯s warlords were attacking them, and would continue attacking until they were all dead.


    ¡°Please, sir, see reason.¡± Gorst interjected, ¡°We have been attacked, and not by bandits.¡±


    ¡°This matter is at an end. We will march on. We will comport ourselves with dignity and honour. We will protect the colonists from this banditry. We will¡­¡±


    It was Hood¡¯s turn to interrupt, ¡°We are too slow. You refuse to acknowledge the reality of the situation. You also refuse to turn and fight. You even refuse to acknowledge the fight you are in. Even were you correct that our enemy are mere bandits, or that continuing were the right course, at this rate, it will be winter by the time we make the pass.¡±


    ¡°What would you have us do, man?¡± Brigadier Belfair asked on behalf of his general.


    ¡°If you cannot speed the journey, then make an encampment. A fort. Hold it until the Settru pass clears in the spring and move while the weather is good. Major Kolscht and his engineers can build an earthwork fort in three days if they use the sepoys for labour.¡±


    Blackwater shook his head, ¡°We will not stop. We have been promised safe passage. I weary, this meeting is at an end.¡±


    ¡°If you will not see reason, you will continue without us.¡± Hood said, ¡°We will leave you behind and continue alone.¡± He saw that Blackwater was about to protest and preempted him, ¡°Do not think to order me about.¡±


    ¡°What of the women and children?¡± Belfair blustered.


    ¡°What of them?¡± Colonel Hood replied, then turned and went from the tent with haste.


    The rest of the officers slowly filed out after him. Only Belfair stayed. As Havor and Dryden were leaving, Blackwater called to them, ¡°Take this trash from my tent.¡± He said and tossed the enemy banner at them. Havor caught it. His face was grim and his eyes flashed with anger. Then they left too, leaving the generals alone in the dim light of their command tent.


    Hood was standing alone outside as they exited, ¡°We¡¯re leaving the column and going ahead. We could use your cavalry, Lord Havor.¡±


    ¡°I have nothing if not my duty, sir. I will perform it unto death.¡± Havor replied.


    ¡°I thought that might be the case. If circumstances change, you¡¯re welcome with us.¡± Hood turned to Dryden, ¡°The men you slew. They were Krav An-Zhigo, the heir to the clan, and his eldest son. I would watch yourself, the An-Zhigo clan will likely hunt for you in battle. They are known for their brutality. They have sorcerers who wield dark magics. Keep yourself about that regimental wizard of yours. What¡¯s his name, Marten or some such? Anyway, chin-chin.¡± He turned and strode off towards the mercenary encampment. Within the hour The Company soldiers were marching out of camp, well ahead of the rest of the army. They marched quickly, far too fast for the carts, colonists, and the drovers with their livestock, to keep up with. Soon they were out of sight, down the road, their passage marked only by the cloud of dust kicked up by their marching. As he watched them moving out of sight Dryden feared that Hood was right. They were too slow, and they were being picked off now a dozen at a time. The fighting was a trickle. Soon it would become a torrent, a river of death that could not be stopped. A cold wind kicked up and he shivered with a sudden chill. The major looked to the sky and prayed a quiet prayer under his breath to the silent, long-dead gods of Vastrum, ¡°Please, if ever you lived, see us safely home.¡±

 Up, You Bloody Bastards

    Chapter 26


    The next day saw the road make a treacherous climb up the side of an escarpment. They climbed slowly. The oxen pulling the colonists¡¯ carts had trouble up the rise. Furthermore, snipers occasionally shot down at them. There was not a good place for the enemy to mass, but still, the few snipers placed around them did not need to be accurate to kill men. Even so, the deadliest foe were not the Vuruni snipers, but the road itself. Ice had formed in the night and the slippery rocks were treacherous. The road was narrow too. Dryden watched as a cart full of supplies, together with its driver and team of oxen tumbled screaming down the cliff after slipping off the side. Still, the army pushed on. There was nothing to be done for those that fell. Numbness crept into his heart as they marched up that bastard of a road.


    As the army arrived at the top of the road well ahead of the 13<sup>th</sup>, the sounds of massed gunfire erupted. There had been reports of enemy movement ahead of them, but down on the road at the back of the line, they were in the dark. Wind whipped at Dryden¡¯s great coat. He wanted to spur his horse and join the fighting, but the road was too narrow, there was no way to move up the line. The column moved inexorably forward, inch by inch, foot by foot. The gunfire grew ever closer as they approached the lip of the cliff. Carts were being moved, and cattle pushed aside as they arrived. Bullets whizzed in the air. Then suddenly they were above the edge of the canyon and utter chaos came into view.


    Colonist carts were overturned for cover. Troopers were dismounted and hunkering down. Cattle roamed freely, some had been caught in the gunfire and lay dead. Ahead of them sepoys were deployed in the front and Vastrum regiments were deploying behind them. Belfair, Gorst, and other officers were riding around giving orders madly. General Blackwater was nowhere to be seen. Dryden spurred Rosie and drew his sword. Colonel Havor was just ahead of him, still on his horse trying to rally the 13<sup>th</sup> to him. Mar and several officers were gathered with colonists behind a great cart which lay on its side. Both oxen that had pulled the cart up from the valley were riddled with bullets and lying dead.


    Snow was beginning to fall as Dryden arrived next to Havor, ¡°Sir, we must take cover.¡± He admonished his commander.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do no such thing.¡± Havor shot back. A musket ball whizzed between them, but Havor took no note of it, ¡°We must see off those cavalry on the left flank, lest they get behind our main line.¡± He pointed with his sabre to the far left where a large unit of Guludan infantry was trying to form an ordered line. They had no support and kept falling back in the face of a group of light Vuruni horsemen who were harassing them aggressively. The colonel looked down at the soldiers and officers who were hiding behind carts and boulders, then bellowed out for all the regiment to hear, ¡°Up men, up and on your mounts. It is our day to bleed, to die, and to kill. So up, you bloody bastards, and get thee to thine slaughter. Sound the bugle, draw your swords, and ride with me!¡± He screamed these last words, his voice carrying over the whole blood-soaked field. Those that were hiding came out and mounted back up, then together they followed Lord Havor into battle.


    The Bloody 13<sup>th</sup> rode hard for the left side where Havor had pointed. A group of light cavalry was harassing a unit of sepoys who were dressed in red and blue uniforms. They had dark blue jackets and bright red pantaloons. They wore white turbans. They were armed with what looked like good muskets. Dryden had recognized them as a regiment from the southern colony of Gulud, they were known to be steadfast. They cheered when they saw the 13<sup>th</sup> coming to aid them. The enemy riders saw them coming too, and retreated rapidly from the flanks. The lines of the Guludan sepoys quickly reformed and the left flank stabilized without the 13<sup>th</sup> having to do anything aside from show themselves. Dryden was grateful for that.


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    The left end of the battlefield was slightly higher than the rest of the field, a slight rise from which they could see the battle unfolding. Dryden stopped his horse next to Havor who was observing the fighting, along with his captains and lieutenants, determining where they were needed next. They could see Vastrum units advancing out towards the enemy in good order in the centre. On the right, Dravani sepoys held. The enemy was massed nearby, with few of them mounted up. Many of them were on foot, trying to emulate the tactics of line infantry. Dryden watched them, somewhat confounded. They were not firing in volleys, but firing at will, in a kind of odd mob of soldiers. The Vastrum line infantry advanced on them. Suddenly, as they advanced, a bugle sounded, and the army began to quickly march and reform its order of battle.


    ¡°What the devil are they doing in the centre?¡± Havor observed in confusion.


    ¡°Are they forming squares, sir?¡± Captain Pugh asked, looking through a spyglass.


    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine they would against massed infantry, sir.¡± Lieutenant Brine replied.


    Pugh handed the glass to him, ¡°See for yourself.¡±


    He took that spyglass and looked, ¡°By all the stupid bloody gods!¡± He exclaimed.


    Even without a spyglass, Dryden could see it now. They were indeed forming squares. The formation was like a square fortress made of ranked soldiers facing outwards with guns and bayonets. It was an excellent formation against cavalry as there was no flank to strike at. It was horrid against infantry as three-quarters of your muskets were pointed the wrong way, and it massed the men, allowing them to be easily shot. It was suicide against artillery. They were lucky the enemy had none of the latter. The shocking thing was that little enemy cavalry was present. All their warriors were on foot. The men must have known, but they followed their orders, the formations and marches drilled into them over years of training. They were doing their duty. As they formed squares the enemy slowly moved forward, emboldened by the massed enemy who was making a tactical error. More shots rang out and the enemy moved towards them.


    Havor grabbed his reins and whipped his horse over to where the sepoy officers were standing. They too were watching in shock. Their leading officer was a dark-skinned Guludan man. He wore the same uniform as the rest but had a bright red turban and a huge curved sword that marked him as an officer. The man had a thick black moustache, a thickset face, and a muscular physique.


    ¡°Lieutenant-Colonel Havor, 13<sup>th</sup> Dragoons!¡± Havor shouted to the officer in a brief battlefield introduction.


    ¡°Captain Khathan, 19<sup>th</sup> Guludan Native Regiment!¡± The man shouted back with a thick accent.


    ¡°We will screen you!¡± Havor shouted down at him, ¡°Advance and enfilade them. Once you¡¯ve engaged, we¡¯ll hit them from the back. We¡¯ll roll up their whole flank, yes?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sahib. We will do it!¡± The officer shouted back. Then, before Havor could leave, the Guludan captain asked, ¡°Why are they forming squares, do you know?¡±


    ¡°They are commanded by a fool!¡± Havor shouted back. Then they were off again, in a vain attempt to salvage something of the mess that Brigadier Belfair was making.

 I Know You For A Soldier

    Chapter Twenty-Seven


    Havor had the cavalry form into a series of lines that stretched most of the way across the front of the Guludan infantry. They moved slowly at first, keeping just ahead of the sepoys. Then, as they advanced, they went from a walk to a trot, and then to a canter. Finally, when they were within a hundred yards, and the enemy had turned to face them, they turned fast and rode hard to the left, leaving a screen of dust behind them. The undisciplined enemy turned continually to face the dragoons. They were far out on the end of the line now. A whole mass of enemy infantry faced them. Shots rang out. A few horses and men went down. Suddenly the Guludan regiment was in range, clear of the dust, and had been left uncovered by the cavalry¡¯s manoeuvring. They were lined up in two ranks. With the horse out of the way and the enemy looking off to the flank, the first rank fired. Vuruni soldiers fell dead. The first rank knelt and the second rank fired. More men died.


    A bugle sounded. Havor twirled his sword over his head, and the whole 13<sup>th</sup> wheeled around together. Dryden had been at the back, but found himself next to the standard bearer, Private Harper, again, now at the front of the line. They spurred their horses hard. All two hundred dragoons and their steeds moved forward together.


    The sepoys had reloaded. The first rank fired again. Then the second rank. More enemies fell. The Vuruni infantry broke before the charge hit home. The Vastrum cavalry flowed down and through the fleeing men. Dryden swung his sword again and again. His sabre was sharp. Cleaving through men like a sickle through tall wheat. The enemy infantry were nothing at all. Men were trampled. Butchered. The left side of the enemy line crumbled, followed by the centre. The whole mass of the enemy began to flee. A cheer went up from the centre as the enemy fell back.


    A bugle sounded again, this time to hold and form up. The 13<sup>th</sup> broke off, letting the enemy go. Dryden felt it was a mistake. Havor looked around to see who had blown the bugle. He appeared ready to kill the man on the spot. Brigadier Belfair was riding up with a small contingent of his junior officers.


    ¡°Well done, well done my boys. Well done indeed!¡± The corpulent general¡¯s face was split in a wide grin.


    Havor rounded on him, ¡°What in the name of the gods was that?¡±


    Belfair¡¯s grin turned to a scowl, ¡°Soldiery, my dear boy, soldiery.¡±


    Dryden looked back behind Belfair and saw the ragged and thin ranks of the Vastrum soldiers behind him.


    ¡°You call that soldiery, you bastard?¡± Gorst¡¯s voice sounded behind the man, ¡°You called for squares. There was no cavalry, yet you called for squares! Damn you Belfair!¡±


    ¡°You will watch your tone with me, I outrank you!¡± Belfair shouted suddenly, his tone going from jubilant to furious in a moment, ¡°I will not be spoken to in such a manner! Where is your fucking decorum and sense of duty, sirs? The next man to speak against me will see the gibbet!¡± He screamed, his face purple with rage, ¡°This is his majesty¡¯s army, and I will have respect! I will have order!¡± Spittle flew from his mouth as he raged. Then the man turned and whipped his horse to go back to the devastated ranks of what remained of his infantry.


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    Colonels Gorst, Havor, and Major Dryden all looked to one another in the silence that followed. They all knew now the depth of the failure. Half their infantry was now dead. Only a handful of sepoy units, the rangers, and the 13<sup>th</sup> now remained mostly unscathed. The baggage train, the colonists, the livestock, everything was in chaos. How could they go on, now? The army was on the edge of ruin. The column was in tatters. Yet they could not make camp here. It was too risky to sleep near so many corpses which could be raised by their enemies. They had to move on.


    Colonel Gorst pulled his horse alongside Dryden¡¯s, ¡°Major, I know you for a soldier and a man of honour. I have a request of you. My Julia is with the colonists. If I should fall¡­ ¡° He let the words hang in the air. The veil had been pulled back. This venture was lost. Gorst had not considered that they might not all survive until now.


    ¡°I will do what I can for her,¡± Dryden replied. He wondered if there was anything that could be done. He still made the promise.


    Most of the rest of the day was spent recovering what goods they were able to, righting carts, collecting livestock, and assessing the damage. It was nearly evening when they set out again. It was night when the exhausted column arrived at the next campsite. Tents were hastily erected. Fires were started with such fuel as was available. Dryden found that his own tent had been in the cart that he had seen lost over the cliff. He slept on the cold hard ground inside Colonel Havor¡¯s tent alongside Rathma, Mar, Captain Pugh, and Lieutenant Brine, who had also lost their equipment in the same cart. None of them spoke. They simply slept and went through the motions of living. All of them were bone weary and Dryden could see they all shared the same sense of shock and horror that he did. To speak, would be to speak the horror into existence, how could they talk of anything else, and if they did speak of it, how could they go on with this mad journey?


    The next morning they rose in silence. Rathma cooked a pot of porridge for breakfast. Better food had already been eaten or had been lost the day before. As they were preparing to leave camp a messenger came and handed Colonel Havor a note.


    ¡°It seems Kurush wants to parlay.¡± Havor summarized the letter, ¡°Blackwater, Belfair, and myself, are to attend the meeting.¡±


    ¡°What do they want to talk about?¡± Pugh asked, ¡°It seems a trap.¡±


    ¡°True. We¡¯ll have an escort. John, I want you commanding.¡± He used Dryden¡¯s first name, he only did that when he was worried, ¡°We¡¯ll take a dozen troopers. Captain Pugh, you will be in command here until we return. Have the men ready to ride, yes? Make sure they¡¯re ready to fight if needed.¡±


    ¡°When is the meeting to happen, sir?¡± Dryden asked.


    ¡°At the top of the hour.¡±


    They met the rest of the commanders at the edge of the camp. Blackwater¡¯s own guards were there, along with a dozen picked troopers from the 13<sup>th</sup>. Several adjutants and other junior officers were along with Blackwater. The old general looked exhausted and haggard, his face was gaunt and drawn. Belfair was there too. He looked cold and grouchy.


    Blackwater looked over at one of his junior officers, ¡°I¡¯m tired. Must we do this now?¡±


    ¡°Yes sir, we must.¡± The corporal replied.

 The Regret of Doomed Men

    Chapter Twenty-Eight


    The camp had been packed quickly, as there was far less luggage now to take with them. Both armies had arrayed themselves across from one another. Luckily for the Vastrum army, they had beaten the Vuruni army to the base of the narrow path that led up towards the fort at Golconda and eventually to the Settru pass. That meant that their enemy could not block their retreat. A tent had been erected between the two armies, the same tent that Gorst and Dryden had met Kurush in several weeks prior. A sudden breeze gave the major a chill and he turned up his collar. He stood outside the warmth of the tent with two dozen Vastrum soldiers, half were his troopers and half Blackwater¡¯s guards. Standing near them were two dozen of the elite enemy guards along with the Fyrin ¡°observer¡± that was part of Kurush¡¯s retinue. He had not been allowed into the tent either. To Dryden¡¯s annoyance, the man sauntered over.


    ¡°Major Dryden, do I have your name right?¡± The man greeted him.


    ¡°You do. I do not remember yours.¡± Dryden replied dryly. He did remember, he simply wanted to annoy the man. The Fyrin were revolutionaries and more than being the enemies of Vastrum, they were, to his mind, guilty of sedition and treason. He was bound by the code of gentlemanly honour to not stab the man in the face, but that didn¡¯t mean he had to be polite.


    The man smirked at him, ¡°Of course, I understand, I was not the most pressing matter at our previous meetings.¡± Then he held out his hand, ¡°Jaqu Rovan.¡± His Fyrin accent was thick when he said his name.


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    ¡°How long have you been in Vurun, Major?¡± The man asked.


    Dryden shot him an annoyed look, ¡°Two years.¡±


    ¡°I have only been here for one year, myself. I hope to be here much longer, of course. How did you find it, living here?¡± The man asked.


    ¡°Disagreeable,¡± Dryden replied.


    ¡°What did you not find to your liking?¡± The man almost sounded sympathetic for a moment.


    Dryden decided to let the man have it, ¡°The dust. The heat in the summer, the cold in the winter. It¡¯s never in between. The wind never stops, no matter the season. The food is unbearably spicy and everything stinks of their chilies. If that weren¡¯t bad enough, they serve their beer warm. You can¡¯t find a drop of wine or whisky. If I¡¯m honest, I can¡¯t find a damned thing to recommend Vurun. I suggest you Fyrins find somewhere nicer to settle down.¡±


    ¡°Everywhere else is taken, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°Vurun was taken too, that didn¡¯t stop you.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not truly taking it in the strictest of senses.¡± The man pulled out a cigarillo from a tin and offered one to Dryden, who shook his head, ¡°Kurush is merely taking back what¡¯s his. We¡¯re in favour of independence. Freeing oppressed colonies, you see.¡±


    ¡°Freeing them, are you?¡±


    ¡°Just so.¡±


    ¡°What happens when we¡¯re gone and somewhere down the line the new king chooses to withhold the aethium supply? You won¡¯t send in soldiers, or mercenaries, to force trade back open?¡±


    ¡°I cannot say what will or will not happen, sir.¡±


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    It was Dryden¡¯s turn to smirk, ¡°We came here with our ideals and hope for free trade as well. Look where it got us.¡± He gestured at the surrounding armies.


    ¡°Ahh, you think we¡¯re just the same as you?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so, my good man, I know it,¡± Dryden replied.


    ¡°No good, no evil. A dismal view of the world, brutish. One might even go so far as to call it nihilistic.¡±


    Dryden chuckled, ¡°Nihilistic? No.¡±


    ¡°What holds the world together, then?¡±


    ¡°Duty and honour. Every man must find these in himself and cleave to them. It does not surprise me that you Fyrins know nothing of this.¡±


    ¡°You wound me.¡±


    ¡°Not yet I haven¡¯t.¡± After a pause he stopped and looked out across the plain at the two bloodied armies, ¡°This place, the power it holds, the beautiful visage; it entices us. It is a mirage. In the end, this land beggars us all. We have ruined ourselves here. It will ruin you after we are gone. The magic, the aethium; it is a dream. Soon, you will wake, as we have, and regret that you ever came to Vurun.¡±


    ¡°I think you are not wrong.¡± Jaqu replied softly, ¡°We will regret it, as you have.¡±


    ¡°Then why come here?¡±


    Before Jaqu could answer, shouts erupted from inside the tent. Dryden turned to the entrance. Two large Vuruni guards stood blocking the way. ¡°Excuse me, sirs, if you would kindly¡­¡± Dryden began to ask. He heard swords being unsheathed behind him, followed by the clash of steel. Dryden felt movement to his right and ripped his sword from his scabbard, giving ground. He parried without even having time to look, catching the enemy¡¯s sword with his own. One of the big Vuruni guards was coming at him fast with another blow. He struck that aside too. Instinct took over, the years of training in the yard at fencing. As the man came at him a third time he stepped forward, flicking the man¡¯s sword aside he ran the big man through and stepped past him to the next. Ahead of him, another Vuruni was on top of a trooper pummeling the man with his fists. It was the standard bearer, Harper. Dryden pulled a pistol from his belt with his left hand, shot the enemy through the back, kicked the dead body off his own man, and helped him to his feet. Then together they went to find another enemy. Guards were killing guards around the outside of the tent. His men were winning somehow, despite the surprise attack. Dryden ripped open the tent flap. Jaqu was nowhere to be found. He looked around and saw riders from both camps coming to them. The 13<sup>th</sup> and what was left of the sepoy cavalry were coming on strong, but so were two hundred screaming Vuruni lancers.


    Inside the tent was chaos. Rathma was standing over Havor¡¯s groaning form protecting him with a Vuruni sword. Belfair was pinned to the ground by two guards. Blackwater was sitting on the ground holding his head as blood seeped from between his fingers. Kurush stood grinning. Aisa sat beside him looking at her fingernails idly, as if nothing were going on in the tent aside from the usual boring diplomacy. Kal¡¯kuris sat next to her frowning deeply. Several big guards stood around the edge of the tent, swords drawn.


    ¡°Your plot is undone, warlord,¡± Dryden growled at him.


    ¡°I knew you for a warrior.¡± Kurush never stopped smiling, ¡°When first I saw you in that tent, I said to myself, he is a man for fighting. It is your weakness.¡±


    ¡°You gave us safe passage. Why do this?¡±


    Kurush stood in anger, ¡°Roxana. She is hidden in your army. I am king of Vurun, and yet you defy me. Do you think she could ever rule us? Do you think she will be the one to replace me when Vastrum returns? I think not. If you will not return her, then you deny that I am king in Vurun, and our bargain is dead.¡±


    The thunder of hoofbeats grew louder outside as the two armies approached. A head poked through the tent, it was Sergeant Vane from Lieutenant Wolcott¡¯s old platoon, ¡°Sir, outside the tent is secure, but the armies approach, we must retire.¡±


    Aisa spoke next, ¡°Did you know that long ago a battle was had here on this spot?¡± She smiled like a cat toying with a small bird. Dryden felt himself go cold at the tone of her voice. ¡°This land has swallowed so many before you. Their bones lie shallow in the ground, and the memory of this land is long. You have not won here, warrior. You have wrapped your doom around you like a cloak.¡±


    The sister of the king brought up a bronze pipe to her mouth and inhaled. A long puff of indigo smoke issued from her lips and a look of bliss crossed her face. The ground shook louder as the armies approached. Dryden could tell from the sound that the horse on both sides were breaking into a canter. Soon they would meet. Then, from outside the tent, a yell of alarm issued forth and something changed in the way that the horses ran. Horses neighed and screamed all across the field of battle. Shadows filled the tent, then, and Dryden fled. Behind him, the laughter of the sorceress echoed in the shadows.

 A Bloody Hard Ride

    Chapter Twenty-Nine


    Even knowing what was coming, Dryden was shocked by the scene outside the tent. Hundreds of Vastrum and sepoy cavalry were in chaos as skeletons rose from the ground around them. Their claw-like skeletal hands tore soldiers and horses alike back down into the dirt. Dark spirits flew in the sky above the soldiers, swooping to attack the falling men. Darkness and mist flowed up and through the cavalry, as they went. Men and horses fell together, dragged down to the ground by the dead soldiers that clawed up at them from below. The whole battlefield beyond the horsemen moved with undead as Vastrum soldiers fought for their lives.


    The enemy cavalry wheeled and broke off from their charge. They cheered and whooped as they went, riding hard for the tent where Dryden and his few men stood. There was no winning this. They could stay and be killed or captured, or they could mount up and flee.


    Dryden stuck his head back into the tent, and spoke to Rathma, ¡°Can you bring them?¡±


    The Dravani servant answered by grabbing Havor¡¯s jacket, slinging him over his back, and hauling the colonel from the tent. The colonel groaned as he was lifted. Dryden went to grab Blackwater, but one of the guards in the tent stepped forward brandishing a tulwar.


    ¡°You will not take him,¡± Kurush said, a false smile playing on his lips.


    ¡°Where is your honour, sir, we came here under a banner of peace,¡± Dryden demanded.


    ¡°You people came to Vurun under the same banner. How many did you kill?¡± The king¡¯s smile turned to a sneer.


    The man with the tulwar advanced on Dryden.


    ¡°Sahib! We must go!¡± Rathma¡¯s cry came from outside the tent.


    Dryden growled and slipped back outside where Rathma was waiting to hand him Rosie¡¯s reins. Together he and his handful of men mounted and rode away from the tent. Havor was draped over the back of his horse Commandant, with Rathma in the saddle. The enemy cavalry arrived at the tent only moments after they had gone. A few of them came chasing the remaining Vastrum men. They peeled off after only a few seconds as they were called back by their commanders. Ahead of them, the same skeletal warriors rose from the ground. The bulk of the 13<sup>th</sup> and the sepoy lancers were simply gone. A few still rode on, fighting the tide of undeath that threatened to pull them down. The few dozen survivors were riding to meet Dryden¡¯s detachment.


    ¡°Ride at them hard!¡± Dryden shouted, ¡°If you waver, you will fall. We will crush the bones under our hooves!¡± He spurred Rosie hard in the flanks and she responded by galloping faster.


    They rode through the skeletal warriors, hands reaching up to meet them. One horse went down. Then a second. Dryden screamed with rage as he rode as if he could make it through by anger alone. He heard men yelling beside him. He struck with his sword where he could, but his horse¡¯s hooves did most of the hard work, crushing bones into the dirt. Then suddenly they were through the wall of skeletons, beyond the edge of the old battlefield. Beside them, they were joined by a scattered group of other cavalry that had escaped the trap that the necromancer Aisa had sprung upon them. Dryden looked around for Rathma and Havor, but they were nowhere to be found among the horsemen. He looked back and saw Rathma dragging Havor¡¯s body back towards the tent away from the skeletons where he and the colonel were obscured from view by Vuruni horsemen.


    There was nothing to be done. They rode hard for their own lines. Dryden found Colonel Gorst waiting for him at the front of the army, having just fought off a mass of skeletal warriors.


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    ¡°That looked a bloody hard ride, Major. What the devil happened?¡± Gorst asked as he arrived.


    ¡°They¡¯ve been taken prisoner. It was the witch.¡±


    ¡°Blood and thunder. What of Blackwater and Belfair?¡±


    ¡°Captured. Havor too, I think, if he still lives. Where is Roxana?¡± Dryden asked, ¡°This is all because we would not give her over. She must be protected, I think, at all costs.¡±


    ¡°For the Shah¡¯s daughter?¡± Gorst asked, ¡°He¡¯d do all this for her?¡±


    ¡°To secure his kingdom? He¡¯d do anything for that. What are your orders, sir?¡±


    ¡°My orders? I don¡¯t command the cavalry.¡± Gorst said, scoffing.


    ¡°You do, sir, the whole army is yours to command, is it not? Belfair, Blackwater, and Havor are all taken. Of the remaining officers, you are the most senior, are you not?¡± Dryden replied.


    Gorst frowned deeply, ¡°I suppose so. Very well.¡± Then he turned to one of his officers, a man named Abernathy. When the colonel spoke now his voice had changed, it was more military than before. This was business he knew, and well. Now he was no longer held back by his generals, and he could simply go about the business of being a soldier, ¡°Prepare the army to march up the pass. I want lines of sturdy soldiers covering our rear. Put those 19<sup>th</sup> Guludan Natives at the centre, Captain Khathan knows his business. I want my grenadiers on the left flank, and those good Marrowick boys on the right. I want them to fall back by ranks, covering fire, and all that. Hurry now, if you please, wot.¡± Next, he turned back to Dryden, ¡°Major, the 13<sup>th</sup>, or what¡¯s left of it is yours now. I¡¯ll give you Blackwater¡¯s old horse guard, and the sepoy irregulars as well, if any are left. If they ride a horse, they¡¯re yours. Reform what remains. Your only task now is to escort our colonists. By all the devils and gods in the world, we¡¯re getting over that damned pass.¡± Men snapped to attention, following his orders to the letter. He marched his way off through the throng bellowing orders to sergeants and demanding order in the ranks. By the time Dryden had made his way to where the remaining cavalry was gathered, the whole army was moving in a way that Dryden had not seen in his whole time in Vurun.


    The major rode up to where Captain Pugh, Sergeants Flint, Vane, and Locke were sitting on their horses, ¡°Where¡¯s everyone else? Baker, Brine, and the lot.¡±


    ¡°This is everyone.¡± Flint replied gruffly, ¡°Upton and Reed are with the carts. A few are with the surgeon, I expect Captain Wilson will lose his arm.¡±


    There were roughly two dozen troopers behind them, another two dozen sepoy horsemen, and another dozen horse guard. They had begun the day with two hundred dragoons, another fifty sepoy horse and two dozen horse guard. Dryden¡¯s voice cracked, ¡°What of Mar?¡±


    ¡°Here, Major. Lost my horse, I¡¯m afraid.¡± Mar spoke from the ground, where Dryden had not been able to see him.


    So many were simply gone. He didn¡¯t know what to say, ¡°Get yourself a horse from the quartermaster, Mar.¡±


    ¡°Aye, I¡¯ll do that. What of Jack?¡± The mage used their commander¡¯s first name, a breach of etiquette. Havor and Mar had truly been friends, so he ignored it.


    ¡°Captured or dead, I can¡¯t be certain.¡± He replied, ¡°There¡¯s not many of us, but we have to reform, and quickly.¡± Dryden shouted out to the rest of the assembled cavalry, ¡°Colonel Gorst is now in command of the army. We¡¯re no longer to bring up the rear. Our duty is to protect the colonists, even unto death.¡± Together they rode up and away towards where the colonists and their carts were beginning to move towards the long road which led up to the last fort at Golconda and the final approach to the Settru Pass.


    Dryden looked back at the men lined up behind them who protected their flank and the retreat. The remaining skeletons had been defeated by Vastrum¡¯s massed line infantry. Somewhere a regimental mage fired a spell that blasted into the shadowy creatures that circled overhead and drove them away. Blackwater had rarely employed his wizards, he did not trust in magic. Now the gloves had come off. They were finally led by a competent commander. The major wondered if it would matter, or if the change had come too late. There was no time to consider it, really. No time to grieve. No time to feel the pain of the loss of his friends and compatriots. No time to consider the loss of so many men. The only thing he, or any of them could do, was their duty. The only thing they could trust were their horses, their steel, and the man next to them. After a quick assessment of what he still had under his command, he spurred Rosie, his old bay mare, into a trot towards that dark road up the mountain. He did not look back to see if his men were with him; the pounding of horse¡¯s hooves on the hard-packed earth told him they were. Then, as they rode, somewhere across the plain a horn blew. A great sound went up like the roaring of the ocean, and the whole host of Kurush¡¯s horde began to march forward together.

 A Commander Worth Following

    Chapter Thirty


    This time the enemy came on horseback. Dryden and the remnants of the 13<sup>th</sup> rode up the hill away from the line of battle, and towards the colonist carts that were taking to the high road. Thousands of civilians went ahead of the army. Only the rangers and a few other depleted infantry units went at the front. The immediate threat was behind them now. The vast army of Kurush moved as one mass. There was no real attempt at making organized battle lines. They had outnumbered the Vastrum men at least two to one at the outset of the fighting. So much good infantry had been lost in Belfair¡¯s square formations against massed infantry. Now the exact numbers were impossible to say, but it was lopsided by far in the Vuruni¡¯s favour. Their new king sought to sweep Vastrum from the field with their sheer bulk. There was one difference now, however: Gorst was no Belfair. Dryden felt helpless nonetheless. All he could do was watch the men behind and below fight off their enemy as he advanced with the ragtag column of survivors.


    Gorst had organized his lines in ranks three men deep. When the enemy cavalry was in range the first rank fired. Then fell back. The second rank fired and fell back. Followed by the third. By the time the third had fired and moved back, the first rank was ready to fire again. Quartermasters and sergeants rode with carts between the units, giving them new cartridges for their muskets. Rank by rank the army pulled back up the hill. As the path narrowed, the men compressed, condensing their fire. Horses and men fell dead before the raking gunfire. It took only minutes before all the momentum of the Vuruni charge had failed and the mob of charging enemy cavalry had backed up on themselves in a chaotic mass like a wave receding from the shoreline only to disrupt the next wave coming behind it.


    Soon the whole enemy mass was moving backwards, finding their strategy unsuccessful. The field was littered with dead men and writhing dying horses. Dryden watched the dying horses, the whinnying and neighing and bleating of the dying animals echoed even up to where his own men rode. He felt Rosie whinny under him and he wondered if the scene did not make her sad as well. There was nothing to be done.


    The enemy came again not long after. This time they came on foot, firing back at the Vastrum army with their longer-ranged jezails. They did not have high ground, and they did not fire in any kind of organized way, so they killed few. The Vastrum men were harried and harassed until the last of the army was off the plain and following the narrow road to Golconda. Between the civilians who had fled back to the city, those who had died in the cold, or fallen exhausted along the road, and the dead soldiers who fell to snipers, skirmishes, and finally to two brutal battles, the column now seemed a small pathetic thing. They had lost half of their fighting force, half their baggage, all their Vuruni civilians, most of their cavalry, and even the Company mercenaries had vanished up the road somewhere. Their only hope was if Golconda still stood, and even that was a vain hope. It was not a large fort. It had some supplies and weapons. It did not have enough food or room for even a quarter as many as still marched, without even considering if Colonel Hood had got there first.


    When the road was wide enough, Dryden and his relative handful of cavalry passed soldiers and carts until they finally arrived near the front where the colonists trudged away up the hill. They had lost many carts too. What they had were good supplies though. None had bothered to retrieve or haul their furniture this far, these items had been thrown into the ditch as they had gone along. Now many of them walked along, with no cart or animal to ride. No one greeted the cavalry officer, there was no one to take charge from. They simply moved along as a herd like cattle, following the soldiers that led them. As the road turned up a steep embankment he finally found Lady Julia Gorst, Lady Helena Blackwater, and Roxana, the daughter of Shah Guranji. He had been tasked with guarding these women. He pulled Rosie up alongside the cart that the three women were riding in, one of the few carts still functional. Helena was sitting in the front holding the reins to the two huge draft horses that pulled the cart up the slope. Julia was seated next to her with a grim exhausted look on her face. Roxana was seated in the back of the cart holding a young girl in her arms. The princess was still dressed in the soldier¡¯s uniform that Havor had given her. None of them took any note of Dryden until he had come right up next to the cart. He had not seen Helena or Julia since the ball. He had been much too busy for social calls. Even covered head to toe with dirt from the road Julia still looked beautiful to his eyes, her striking red hair was wild and whipped up from the wind, and her freckles were dulled by the dust on her cheeks. None of that mattered. He found he was more than pleased to see her. She seemed a flash of colour in this drab cold land.


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    ¡°My lady.¡± He said, addressing Julia.


    Her eyes searched his face with no recognition, ¡°Major.¡± She said at last.


    ¡°Please, call me John.¡± He replied earnestly.


    ¡°John, then. To what do we owe the pleasure?¡± Her voice was sweet and light as if he had come calling for luncheon on a bright spring morning with the sun in the air and bees buzzing. As if he had come carrying a handful of fresh flowers for her.


    ¡°I have come to escort you to Golconda, with what few men I have left under my command.¡± He said, trying his best to sound brave and strong and confident.


    ¡°What of the rest of your men?¡± Julia asked.


    ¡°Fallen, m¡¯lady.¡±


    Her face went white, ¡°So many dead?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. We lost many on the plain below.¡±


    ¡°What of Havor?¡± Roxana was suddenly interested in the conversation. Her dark eyes flashed with something between passion and defiance when she said his name.


    Dryden shook his head, ¡°He was wounded badly and captured. I know no more than that.¡±


    ¡°A pity.¡± She replied haughtily.


    ¡°What of my father?¡± Helena spoke up. Her soft face looked up sadly at Dryden.


    ¡°Captured as well, though when last I saw him, he was unharmed.¡±


    ¡°What of mine?¡± Julia asked next. They were desperate for any news at all. They¡¯d been riding in the column and they¡¯d had no messengers. Little communication had passed along. Dryden had taken all his knowledge for granted.


    ¡°Colonel Gorst commands the army now. He¡¯s as good a commander as Vastrum has. He¡¯ll see us home, don¡¯t you worry.¡± Dryden tried to assure them. He did not think he sounded completely genuine, but his words seemed to calm the women in the cart.


    As he said the words, he felt a shadow fall across his face and he looked up to the left. There was a rider on an outcrop. The man reared his horse up and shouted something. From the side of the road up the valley, a stream of horsemen came galloping out at speed towards the column. There was nowhere to turn, nowhere to circle carts. The hillside was rugged terrain and the enemy horsemen came on quickly. What the enemy was doing, riding out across the incredibly steep slope, looked like suicide, but they came fearless and full of rage. The column needed no urging. Together, all the thousands of colonists and ragtag soldiers began to run up the slope. Their only hope was the fort at Golconda. Dryden prayed it was not a false hope.

 Go Straight at Them

    Chapter Thirty-One


    The fort of Golconda came into view just as the first of these reckless enemy horsemen crashed into the flank of the column just ahead of where the 13<sup>th</sup> was riding. They laid into the colonists with a wicked brutality that left even Dryden¡¯s heart cold. He had known their enemy hated them, but these were not soldiers being killed, these were civilians. He spurred Rosie once again, and she responded at his urgent kick bounding up the narrow road past people and carts. Dryden ripped his sword from his scabbard. Behind him, he heard his men drawing weapons as they rode and his sergeants shouting for men to follow.


    ¡°Up, with the Major!¡± Flint shouted from just behind.


    ¡°Move you bastards!¡± Vane shouted from further back.


    Dryden pointed his sword at the nearest enemy riders, who were laughing and trampling over the dead bodies of several colonists, ¡°Fight me!¡± He shouted at the man and before the enemy could answer, Rosie was past the man, and his sword had carved a bloody path through the enemy warrior. These were not soldiers, they had no discipline. These were warriors they faced. He kicked his horse again and made for the next man. His troopers, few though they were, swept past him, riding in the rough terrain off the road with the same lack of fear that the enemy had. They swept into the side of the raiders. There were so many of them, though, and so few of the 13<sup>th</sup>. Still, the Bloody 13<sup>th</sup>, the Butchers of Vurun, those that were left, were the toughest of the lot. The enemy fell back momentarily. It was enough. Dryden speared another man through. The blow ripped the sword from his hand and his horse continued on. He pulled out his pistol, a weapon he didn¡¯t care for, and looked for another enemy. He found one, for they were many and all about the column. He shot a man, who fell silently from the wagon he was looting.


    ¡°Sir!¡± Someone shouted. Dryden looked over and saw Private Harper coming up with the regimental colours flying, ¡°Take my sword!¡± The young man shouted and handed it over.


    Dryden took it, ¡°My thanks, Harper.¡±


    Then the flow of the fight took them away again as the 13<sup>th</sup> fought the raiders all up the line towards the front. The 22<sup>nd</sup> Rangers were coming now from the head of the column led by that big bastard of a man, Lieutenant Koen. His men slowly worked their way methodically backwards from the front, sniping enemy riders. Then a cry of despair came up from the colonists again. More riders were coming from the hills around Golconda. The column was moving towards the fort. Soldiers in the column were arraying themselves to defend, but there were too many foes and the column was stretched out down the hill with most of the best soldiers covering their retreat from the army behind that still harried them like wolves chasing a stag.


    ¡°With me!¡± Dryden shouted, ¡°13<sup>th</sup>, rally to me!¡±


    Harper was there with the banner, Locke with his blunderbuss. Mar exhaled a long puff of indigo smoke. Pugh stood in his stirrups on his dappled grey horse with a bloody sword in his hand looking furious. The irregulars and the general¡¯s guard were there too, behind them, waiting for orders.


    ¡°Assessment, Pugh?¡± Dryden asked his only remaining captain. The last one left was a man of rare vision. He could see how battles would play out in a rare way.


    ¡°We¡¯re buggered, sir.¡± Pugh replied, ¡°No choice left but to go straight at them and die well.¡±


    There were only dozens of what was now the 13<sup>th</sup> in name only. But there was no one else to meet the enemy charge. They were damned either way. Pugh was right. Dryden saw it too. Die running or die fighting. He knew Julia was near. He would not die as a coward while she watched. He didn¡¯t know if she truly watched him, but he felt her presence.


    ¡°Orders?¡± Pugh prompted. There was no time left to decide, only to act.


    Dryden¡¯s blood was up. He stood in his stirrups and turned to his men, ¡°I know you for the motherless bloody fucking bastards you are! But those dogs don¡¯t! They wouldn¡¯t be riding this way if they did! Fucking show them!¡± He bellowed. Then he spurred Rosie again towards the screaming enemy horde. With a cry of rage, all that remained of the 13th rode to meet their doom.


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    Hooves thundered across the treacherous rocky slope that was their battlefield. The enemy came swarming around to envelop them. The Vastrum men rode close in a V formation, as close to one another as they dared to laterally across the steep rocky slope. Dryden took the lead, his sword out in front of him like a spear. Harper was beside him with the banner. Mar was on his other side, close enough to reach out and touch. The wizard¡¯s grim face became soft and blissful. Suddenly, Dryden found that he could smell the sea and hear the roar of the ocean. Ahead of them something like a roaring wave rippled through the air and washed across the enemy, sweeping horses and men down the slope screaming in terror. Again, another wave washed across in front of them, clearing a path through the centre of the Vuruni hordes. Then a third time it came, sweeping more horses and riders down. The enemy charge halted momentarily. Again, that moment was all they needed. The last charge of the Bloody 13<sup>th</sup> struck home. The impact thundered. Horses fell, men were thrown, their limp bodies rolling down the steep slope to their deaths. Men fought on the hillside. Dryden raised his sabre and chopped again and again, hacking at the enemy alongside his men. He saw a soldier in the general¡¯s guard uniform go down under the weight of a falling horse. He screamed for a moment, and then the man was gone, down the hill and away. Dryden wheeled Rosie around such as he could and looked for friendly faces. He found few. He rode hard at the enemy and wherever Dryden went, the enemy fell back. He realized that he had pushed beyond the rest of his men. He could still hear fighting and killing. Locke¡¯s blunderbuss fired loudly somewhere. Flint¡¯s voice could be heard bellowing at his men and swearing at his enemies. But Dryden had become separated. Vuruni horses and men circled around him on the hill, their lances pointed in at him.


    A leering face loomed at him out of the crowd, ¡°You are the one they call Dry-Den, no?¡±


    ¡°I am!¡± Dryden looked up and saw the standard that this group of enemy cavalry bore. It was a black flag with a golden eagle, its wings outstretched, with a green viper gripped in its talons.


    ¡°I am Zhan An-Zhigo. They were my son and grandson you killed. I must ask, did you kill them fast, or slow?¡±


    ¡°It was quick,¡± Dryden called out.


    ¡°Lucky for you! I will grant you the same mercy!¡± Then the man urged his horse down the hill at Dryden, his gold helm gleaming in the fading sunlight.


    Zhan wielded a wicked-looking curved talwar. His mount was black and sleek and moved almost like a mountain goat on the steep terrain. He swung his blade as he came. Dryden pulled his reins around, Rosie responded nimbly and Dryden deflected the mighty swing. The man then pulled the same trick Dryden had when he had killed this man¡¯s son. Zhan whipped his horse around, the butt of the horse colliding with Rosie. She neighed in a primal sort of terror as she almost lost her footing. She instinctively spun around and she did not fall. Dryden, however, did. Between awkwardly parrying the blow, the sudden spin of his horse, and the angle of the slope, he slipped over backwards. He hit the ground hard and began to roll uncontrollably. His borrowed sabre flew off into the void somewhere and he landed hard with a crack on a great boulder. It was lucky that he had not fallen much further, though the pain through his side felt anything but fortunate. The enemy warrior dismounted from his horse and strode down the hill, letting the rocks slide just slightly with every step. He grinned wickedly at Dryden as he came. Dryden tried to move, but his ribs hurt terribly. He rolled over onto his side and tried to come up, but he couldn¡¯t do more than sit upright.


    ¡°You fight good, too bad you¡¯re not Vuruni. You could be a warlord. But you are Vastrum, so now you die.¡± The man raised his huge curved talwar to end Dryden¡¯s life.


    Somewhere a great gun sounded, a boom that echoed from Golconda and reverberated down the walls of the stone mountains that surrounded them. Then another sounded. Then a third. Zhan paused and turned to look back. A cannonball from the fort ripped a bloody scar through his men. Then a second. He looked back at Dryden, ¡°You die now.¡±


    A third cannonball ripped through the massed enemy horse, bouncing down the hill as it went. It bounced right behind Zhan, tearing through his sword arm and knocking him to the ground. Dozens upon dozens of enemy soldiers were dead or dying. Horses too. Zhan sat near Dryden, looking at his own arm with disbelief, it was detached and mangled just below the shoulder. His huge sword lay nearby, still gripped in his twitching bloody hand. The cannon fire was too much for the enemy cavalry to bear and they fled, leaving their dead and wounded.


    It was suddenly quiet. Dryden stood and looked around. His men were either dead or had fled back towards the column when the cannons started. He stood up and looked for his horse. Rosie, as far as he could tell, had run off back towards the column with the rest of the surviving 13<sup>th</sup>, leaving Dryden on the boulder. He stood and saw Mar kneeling nearby. He left Zhan, he hadn¡¯t the strength left in him to kill the man, not with his body wracked with pain like this. He and Mar found one another and hobbled together back towards the butchered remains of the column.

 What of the End?

    Act 3


    Interlude


    A winter breeze blew through Andaban and in through the cracks around the old window where Dryden was resting. Though it was sunny out, it was still bitterly cold. The major was finally well enough to walk on his own and was slowly beginning to feel himself. He had been discharged from the infirmary as the surgeons required the hospital beds with wounded coming in from skirmishes near the Settru pass to the northeast. The pass he had come across and barely survived. Dryden had been given a small room with a window that overlooked a courtyard. Several other officers were billeted in the same large house. The room was small, but it was well-appointed and colourful. He even had his own toilet, which was more than a small luxury in the colonies. Outside the room he could hear soldiers performing drills, practicing. The city was still preparing for a siege, but more regiments had come up to Andaban from the south, and with them brought supplies to last months if needed.


    Dryden roused himself slowly. He was still sore in many places, especially in his ribs where they had broken, and in his shoulder where he had been shot. His many other aches and pains were already fading, at least the pains of the body. His nights were restless. He often found he dreamed of Julia, and of Havor, and of the many fellows of his that had perished. He could not completely rid himself of the image of Wolcott¡¯s lifeless body falling suddenly from his horse. The totality of the loss of all these friends and acquaintances struck him at odd times. He would often wake screaming in the night. When he walked down the street, a sudden noise or a horse galloping in the distance would set his heart to racing and his jaw would clench.


    As he dressed himself gingerly there was a knock at the door, ¡°One moment.¡± He said. Then he finished putting on his trousers and went to the door.


    It was Major Havelock. It was his counterpart for those squadrons of the 13<sup>th</sup> Dragoons that had been stationed in Andaban, whose job it had been to guard the road from Golconda to Andaban. Like Dryden, he had been mustered from Marrowick, and they were both under the command, at least nominally, of Lieutenant-Colonel Havor.


    ¡°Good morning, John. Hope I didn¡¯t wake you?¡± They were friends, and they often referred to one another casually.


    ¡°Morning, Will. Not at all, I was just rousing myself.¡± He replied. They had only spoken a few times since Dryden had made it safely to Andaban. Havelock had been riding up and down the road scouting and skirmishing with enemy riders, ¡°How was the road?¡±


    ¡°Dangerous. The enemy is finally advancing across the pass in force. We did our best to harry their scouts, but we¡¯re being pulled back to the city for the siege. That¡¯s not why I called, however. I want to show you something. I think you¡¯ll be pleased.¡± He gave a wry smile.


    Dryden finished slipping on his boots. He still wore his old black leather cavalry boots, even when not riding. He followed Havelock out the door. Dryden was pleased that he no longer needed to walk with a cane, strength had returned to his legs of late. Together they walked down the stairs and out of the mansion in which many officers were housed and across the courtyard. They walked out of the grounds and down a street. The city of Andaban was dense and built up quite a bit more than Vurun had been. Most of the buildings were two stories tall or more and made of a harder kind of brick. Normally the streets were bustling with vendors, but many had fled the city ahead of the Vuruni army that was coming. It was an eerie kind of quiet. Dryden recognized that they were headed towards the stables. Havelock led him in and down a row of horses. The smell of horse and hay entered his nostrils heavily. It was a smell he had spent much of his life around, and he hadn¡¯t noticed it until he had been away. Now that he returned, the heady smell enveloped him like a comfortable blanket. They stopped at a stall with a horse inside. The colour of the horse was bay. She whinnied.


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    Dryden¡¯s jaw dropped, ¡°Rosie.¡± He said with a whisper, ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°She lived. She bore you across the mountains and all the way down to the gates of Andaban.¡±


    ¡°But, I was told she died from exhaustion.¡±


    ¡°Whoever told you that is a liar, I don¡¯t know why they would say that. We took her into the stables. She was certainly in poor health. It wasn¡¯t easy to keep her alive, you can thank Stablemaster McClary for that. He has a way with sick horses.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Will.¡±


    ¡°Think nothing of it, John.¡±


    Another voice cut the silence, ¡°Ahh, I was told I¡¯d find you here.¡± It was the colonel, Dansby, ¡°How are you feeling, Major Dryden?¡±


    ¡°Much improved, sir, thank you.¡±


    ¡°Ahh, well I had a moment and I wanted to tell you that a few of your boys had walked into Andaban this morning. Well, not your troopers, but a few of your sepoys made it in. Said they had hidden in the mountains and then marched over the pass once things had cooled down. They were led out by an officer, one Captain Khathan, I believe. He said he knows you, that you can vouch for him that he¡¯s not a spy.¡±


    ¡°I know him, and I can. He¡¯s a damned good fighter. We fought together in the last push.¡±


    ¡°Well then, let¡¯s head down to see him, and get him and his small party of sepoys released.¡±


    ¡°Why do you need me?¡±


    ¡°Well, I want to make sure he is who he says he is. Could be someone else using his name.¡± The colonel explained.


    ¡°You go, Dryden. I have other business. If you want to ride Rosie, just talk to McClary.¡± Havelock nodded and walked off abruptly.


    Dryden followed Dansby out of the stables and off down another unfamiliar street that looked and felt just like the last.


    ¡°So, the last stand, eh?¡± The greying colonel asked.


    ¡°Indeed, sir. We nearly made it out. It was that damned wall they put up across the pass itself. We lost so many men there, too many¡­¡± He trailed off. They walked in silence for a time afterwards.


    Dansby broke the silence, ¡°You know I was good friends with Colonel Gorst when we were younger.¡±


    ¡°I had heard that, yes.¡±


    ¡°We weren¡¯t finished with you telling me the whole story, however. You told me what I needed to know of the witch and her necromancy. I think it will help us defend Andaban. What of the end, though? What of my friend? What of his men? I¡¯m old enough to know there¡¯s no such thing as a good death, lad, but there are better ones and worse ones. Which kind did he have?¡±


    Dryden stopped and found a bench to sit upon, ¡°I need a moment, sir if you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Dansby sat next to him.


    ¡°I beg to disagree. I¡¯ve seen men die well, sir. A few. There were no good deaths after we got to Golconda, nor afterwards when we broke out, nor even when we made our last stand at the pass. No good deaths there at all, sir, except for Colonel Gorst. He had as good a death as I¡¯ve seen in this life.¡±


    Dansby¡¯s eyes had tears in them as he listened, ¡°I¡¯d hear it if you¡¯re willing.¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± Dryden said, and then he told the colonel all he had seen, and of the death of the army.

 That Last Bit of Road

    Chapter Thirty-Two


    With the cannon from the fort covering them, what remained of the army and the column staggered up and up and at last arrived at Golconda. The old fortress overlooked the last section of the long steep road they had climbed. It was the last stop before the Settru pass which would finally lead the army down to Andaban. Thousands were dead. Soldiers had died fighting upon the slopes. Colonists had been cut down by the hundred as they climbed the road. More had slipped and fallen or been trampled in the mad escape. The 13<sup>th</sup> as Dryden knew it was no more. A few cavalry had made it back, but most were dead. Every single remaining cavalryman was wounded, some quite badly. Dryden could name every man of the 13<sup>th</sup> still among the living.


    Pugh still lived, though he had a sword gash across his shoulder that would need tending to. Sergeant Locke was still on his mount with a nasty-looking head wound. Harper the standard bearer still gripped the 13<sup>th</sup>¡¯s standard which was a black raven with its wings outstretched on a red field. His right arm was ruined, and he could only hold the flag with his left. Mar and Dryden were both battered and they limped up the rest of the way to the fort at Golconda. Two men of the general¡¯s guard that had been attached to the 13<sup>th</sup> were still with them, they had various wounds between them. Dryden didn¡¯t know either of them. They found Stablemaster Reed and Lieutenant Upton both with the last remnants of the baggage train, neither of whom were fighters. Everyone else in the 13<sup>th</sup> that had been stationed in Vurun was dead or captured.


    Those infantry units that had been fighting the rearguard action further down the slope had mostly survived, though they too were bloodied by the hard fighting. The rangers that had been fighting at the front had held the line well enough and managed to keep the front from being completely overwhelmed.


    Dryden found Rosie, though he needed help to climb back into the saddle. She was exhausted and walked slowly. He would not have ridden her in this state, except for his miserable condition. She had not had water since the army had last camped. After the fighting, they had little left for people to drink, let alone horses. He knew they would need water, food, and rest before attempting the pass. Golconda, at least, had a well where they could drink. As they arrived at the fort, Dryden found that he was the ranking officer there. Colonel Gorst had not made it to the front of the line yet.


    The fort was old and built in a style that Dryden thought was similar to the old fort in Vurun. It was made of similar-looking red stone. It was stout. Bigger than Zundak, but smaller than the Red Fort. Dryden rode up to the gate.


    A voice called down from above. It was Colonel Hood, ¡°Dryden, is that you?¡±


    ¡°It is. Good to see you safe, Colonel.¡± He shouted back. Shouting hurt his ribs and he winced.


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    ¡°That charge of yours was a sight to see, Major. Well done. Good to see you survived it. We had a little wager going on it.¡±


    Dryden frowned, he didn¡¯t like men betting on whether he lived or died, ¡°What side did you take?¡±


    ¡°I thought you had no chance. I¡¯m glad to see you proved me wrong.¡±


    ¡°Can you let us in and perhaps we can discuss this in person, Colonel?¡± He asked, his ribs truly were hurting with the shouting, ¡°We need to water and feed our horse.¡±


    ¡°Well, yes, about that. I¡¯ll let in the soldiers.¡± Hood offered, ¡°But not all the colonists. The fort can¡¯t take that many and we haven¡¯t many supplies to share aside from water. The fort has a good cistern and well.¡±


    ¡°Damn him,¡± Pugh growled quietly.


    ¡°Worry not, Major, the fuzzies won¡¯t return while we¡¯ve got these cannon covering our position. Not anytime soon, I can tell you that. Keep the civilians outside and we¡¯ll let some of you in. Our surgeon can attend to you if need be.¡±


    A few soldiers pushed back the civilians who moved aside with only a bit of grumbling. Then the gates opened and Dryden led his few men inside along with some other wounded soldiers. Inside they dismounted. The fort was rather small inside, even more so than it had looked outside. It was also rather crowded already with the Company soldiers who were billeted there. Several men took their horses and led them into the stables that were near the entrance. The stables were actually inside one of the buildings. Dryden assumed this was to help keep the animals warm in the snow and winter.


    Colonel Hood came down to greet Major Dryden and his men, ¡°Welcome to Golconda, Major. First, you come to my fort to get me out of it. Now you come to join me in it.¡± He laughed like he had made some kind of great joke.


    Dryden smiled at him, ¡°So. How did you come to be here, did the Vuruni cavalry give you any trouble?¡±


    ¡°They did. We did well enough until we got to the hill that you just came up. They did the same thing to us that they did to you just now. Lost a quarter of our men on our first attempt up the hill. We reformed and made it on the second attempt. Damned hard hill to climb, that. Worse when you¡¯re being hounded by the roonies the whole way up. They killed half of what was left. By the time we made it up here, well, we¡¯ve little strength left. We figured to wait for you. I had hoped you¡¯d reinforce us for the last push. Turns out you¡¯re here to join us in dying. Can¡¯t be helped I suppose.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve practically made it, haven¡¯t we? Gorst is coming up with the rest of the men shortly. It¡¯s just a quick climb over the pass, isn¡¯t it?¡± Dryden was confused.


    Hood shook his head, ¡°The roonies built a wall across the last bit of road.¡±


    Pugh swore, ¡°They weren¡¯t giving us a week to leave Vurun as an ultimatum. They were counting on us taking the whole week so they could set up this trap, and we gave them two weeks. Damn, damn, damn. Why didn¡¯t I see it? They were never going to let us go.¡±


    ¡°Seems so.¡± Hood agreed, ¡°Winter is already setting in too. I expect it will snow more within the week. Up here in the mountains, it will be thick and heavy. It¡¯ll make that snow we got down in the valley seem a light dusting.¡±


    ¡°So we can¡¯t stay.¡± Pugh added, ¡°Not enough food. Not enough shelter. Snow is coming. If we don¡¯t leave now, none of us will leave this fort alive.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be eating our own dead within two weeks if we stay here. It¡¯s not much of a chance pushing through the pass, but it¡¯s better than dying in this shithole.¡± Hood declared, ¡°Lieutenant Cavallo, show these men to the infirmary. Have their wounds tended to. We¡¯re going to need every man we can get in fighting shape if we¡¯re to make it through.¡±

 The Charnel House

    Chapter Thirty-Three


    The small battered group of cavalrymen entered the dark of Golconda¡¯s small infirmary. The first thing that hit Dryden was the smell of blood and rot. The second, as his eyes adjusted to the dim lantern light of the room, were the men lying all around on cots or mats on the floor. Hollow eyes stared back at them. The eyes of wounded and dying men shone at them with unspoken pain. None of the suffering men made any sound. At the back of the room was a closed door, from which issued the only real light and sound in the whole infirmary. Light leaked from around the outside of the door and groans of pain came from inside.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the surgeon?¡± Dryden asked.


    A man leaning up against the wall pointed at the door. The man¡¯s torso was half-covered in bloody bandages. The coat of a Company officer was draped around his shoulder. Dryden felt like he recognized the man but couldn¡¯t place his face. Perhaps he had seen him when they were marching out of Vurun.


    He went to the door and knocked.


    ¡°Enter.¡± The voice came through the door.


    He opened the door. Inside there were several men. First was a surgeon in a heavily blood-stained shirt hunched over a waist-high table. He was sawing. On the table was a wounded man. Several others were holding him down. He had a bit in his teeth and he was grunting and groaning at the pain. He had unfortunately not passed out while the surgeon took his leg. The surgeon was quick, however. The leg was off in what seemed like mere moments. Then they went to sewing up the stump and wrapping it with a tar-soaked cloth to stem the bleeding. It was something Dryden had seen dozens of times. It still bothered him to witness it.


    With the surgery done, the doctor turned to the major, ¡°What?¡± He snapped.


    ¡°We have wounded among us. Hood sent us to you.¡±


    ¡°Ahh, I see no wounds on you.¡± The man frowned at him behind small square glasses.


    ¡°I have broken my ribs. I understand there¡¯s nothing to be done about that. But I have several men who have taken cuts and bullets.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re walking on their own?¡±


    ¡°They are.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ve no time for them. Except that one.¡± He pointed to Private Harper, whose arm hung limp and ruined at his side. I can take the arm and send him back to you shortly. We¡¯ve no bandages, time, or space for anyone who can move under their own power.¡± The surgeon noted.


    ¡°What of healing, can you not cast a healing charm, sir?¡± Mar asked.


    ¡°Healing charms?¡± The man scoffed. I¡¯ve not the materials left to me. Not for a whole army.


    ¡°I have some aethium in my pouch if you could use that.¡± Mar offered.


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    ¡°Aye. I could use that. Might want to save it for the next battle, though.¡± The man suggested, then turned back to Harper, ¡°There¡¯s no saving that arm, though, even with magic. Not for all the aethium in the world.¡±


    ¡°Lieutenant Kent is convulsing, sir!¡± A voice shouted from back in the infirmary room.


    ¡°Bring him.¡± The doctor said. Two of the healthy men carried the convulsing figure through and into the surgery room, ¡°Hold him.¡± The surgeon¡¯s assistants held the man down along with several of the cavalrymen who were able. The rest watched. As the man seized up on the table and writhed the old surgeon took his hands and spoke some words. ¡°Give me a pinch of that aethium, now, if you please, wizard.¡±


    Mar handed over his pouch. The man took a small amount and snorted it up his nose. His eyes seemed to glow in the gloom of the surgery room. He spoke soft words over the writhing man. Dryden could smell something that reminded him of baked goods and vanilla, and it reminded him he was famished. The figure slowly relaxed. Then a glow came over the man. It was like a kind of phosphorescent webbing that seemed to envelop the dying figure. The doctor plucked it from the man, it came up easily, and the surgeon wound it up in a ball. Then he tucked the small lump of ethereal matter in his medical pouch. The room went dark and became still again. No one made a sound. Dryden realized that the man on the table wasn¡¯t breathing anymore.


    ¡°What was that?¡± He asked, breaking the silence, ¡°Did you kill him, sir?¡±


    The man handed the aethium bag back to Mar and answered the questions, ¡°That was his essence I took, one might say his soul. I did not kill him, he was dying already, I merely used the opportunity to acquire a useful catalyst. One more powerful for healing others. Now, let me see about that arm, private.¡± He changed the subject, turning to Harper.


    Harper¡¯s arm was half off at the forearm. It had been chopped at repeatedly, presumably in an attempt to knock down the standard of the 13<sup>th</sup>. He had somehow managed to keep it flying through the whole fight. The bone was already mostly cut through. Harper only gritted his teeth as the surgeon finished the job. He looked about for a bandage.


    ¡°Will this do?¡± Dryden somehow still had the banner that he had taken from An-Zhigo in what seemed like many battles ago.


    ¡°Aye, it will do very nicely.¡± The surgeon began cutting it to pieces. He took a length, dipped it in tar, and then he bandaged the arm with it. ¡°You can use what¡¯s left of this to bandage yourselves up. I don¡¯t see anything that¡¯s worth my time.¡± He gave the rest of the banner back.


    They left the surgeon then and went back outside. The fresh mountain air outside was like clean water to a man drowning in shit after the foul air of the infirmary. Dryden took a deep breath. They divided the rest of the cloth between them and worked to bandage the rest of the men. Harper came with them. He was able to walk, though he looked rather pale.


    ¡°Anyone have food?¡± Dryden asked around.


    ¡°We could eat Private Harper¡¯s old arm.¡± Sergeant Locke suggested with a wicked grin.


    Everyone laughed at his gruesome joke, even Harper. None of them knew why. It was a grim suggestion, even as a joke. It shouldn¡¯t have been funny, but it was. There was so little to eat up here in the mountains, and few supplies at the fort. ¡°I¡¯ll find something.¡± Pugh offered and went off in search of anything to eat. He came back a few minutes later with a bag that contained old hardtack that was rotted through with weevil maggots. They ate it without complaint, ¡°Oi, you¡¯re wasting good meat there, sir.¡± Harper jabbed back at Locke as the sergeant brushed a tiny maggot from his short beard. They all laughed again.


    Soon they were in decent spirits again. The horror of battle had faded just slightly here in the fort. They had lived, at least for now. They had faced battle, certain death, and come out alive. For just a moment there was hope. Even knowing that they still had the climb the last slope to the pass. Even knowing there was a wall to knock down, and a brutal enemy waiting to turn them back. Even knowing so many were dead, they all smiled at one another. They had made it to Golconda. The end was literally in sight. One more rise. One more fight. It was then, as they were sitting there waiting for the rest of the army to finish coming up the last bit of the hill, and as they were finally smiling and laughing for that moment, that snowflakes began to fall once more upon the mountain.

 Such Brave Men

    Chapter Thirty-Four


    What was left of the army could not fit into the fort at Golconda. A ragtag camp had been made around the outside of it instead. Gorst had not come into the fort until makeshift pickets and defences had been arranged. Only a handful of carts holding ammunition had been kept safe and dragged up the hill. There was little in the way of food left. Water was taken from the cisterns of the fort and distributed freely to soldiers and colonists alike. The last of the carts were unloaded and then broken down for fuel to provide warmth. Few officers were left. Very few above the rank of lieutenant. The snipers of the enemy with their jezails had been highly effective.


    Colonel Gorst leaned against a parapet and looked up at their goal. One last climb to the top of the pass. Two towering snow-laden mountains loomed like gatekeepers to either side of it. A bit of snow had come down and covered the whole landscape in a fresh layer of white. Down here at the pass, it was not deep, but up in the peaks of the mountains, it was thick. Hood, Dryden, Pugh, Mar, Captain Khathan, Lieutenant Koen of the rangers, and a handful of other infantry officers stood along the ramparts with their commander. Captain Khathan, being a sepoy, would not normally have stood with the rest, but there were so few officers left, and he was now the ranking sepoy. Beyond that, they had been blooded together, so they did not deny him a place.


    ¡°A penny for your thoughts?¡± Gorst asked the group of officers.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be damned bloody,¡± Hood replied. It was obvious, but he said it like it was a revelation.


    ¡°That cavalry is going to return and harry us again. They¡¯re going to drive us like cattle into that makeshift wall. They¡¯ll have those jezails massed behind it. I¡¯ll tell you, we can¡¯t seriously fight in two directions going up that slope. We¡¯ll need every man for the assault.¡±


    ¡°So, straight at them, then. Hard and fast, like always. That wall can¡¯t be strong, can it? It¡¯s low and made of piled rocks. Good cover for their snipers, but if we get up into them, it won¡¯t hold.¡± Dryden added.


    ¡°If we don¡¯t deal with those cavalry, it won¡¯t much matter. There won¡¯t be enough of us left to make the final assault.¡± Pugh insisted.


    ¡°So, someone stays behind at the fort and mans the guns. The guns can cover the rear easily enough,¡± Dryden replied.


    ¡°You will want a rear guard, yes? Someone to die holding them back?¡± Khathan asked grimly.


    ¡°Aye, that we will,¡± Gorst agreed sadly.


    ¡°I suppose it will be us,¡± Khathan added, ¡°It is always us.¡± Gorst started to object, but Khathan cut him off, ¡°No. It will be us. They will taste our khukuris.¡± The man grinned through his thick moustache. There was something wicked in the Guludan¡¯s dark eyes. A desire for revenge, and perhaps a desire to die as well. Dryden knew that many of the sepoy wives and children had been among those who had died or returned to Vurun to be slaves. He didn¡¯t know if Khathan¡¯s own family was dead or enslaved. He did not ask the man, but the Captain¡¯s countenance told him it was one or the other.


    ¡°If you need someone to take the lead, sir, then I volunteer.¡± Koen of the rangers said.


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Gorst replied to both men.


    ¡°Colonel Gorst, sir!¡± A shout came up from the other side of the rampart that overlooked the main gate which faced south. It was not a large fort, and the rampart went around the whole top of it. The group of officers walked around to the southern side to see several riders approaching bearing white flags.


    ¡°Should we let them in, sir?¡± The soldier asked. The soldier was wearing the red and white uniform of the original Golconda garrison.


    ¡°No. I think Hood, Dryden, and I will go to meet them.¡± Gorst replied.


    They went down the stairs from the wall to the courtyard and then the gate was opened and they went out. A kind of avenue had been left open out of the fort. Makeshift tents were erected on either side, where soldiers sat with hungry sunken eyes, eyes filled with exhaustion and rage and fear. Three Vuruni riders approached. Dryden recognized one. Kal¡¯kuris, the emissary.


    Gorst strode up. He too knew the emissary. His face was full of fury, and he shouted when he spoke, ¡°You dare show your face here after you broke faith under a flag of truce? After your king broke his promise of peace?¡±


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    The emissary got a sad look on his face, ¡°I was not aware of these betrayals before they happened.¡±


    ¡°You expect me to believe that?¡± Gorst shouted.


    ¡°No. It is true nonetheless. I am sorry for how these things have happened. I told you once, that war makes no promises. That is still true. Kings do as kings will. Yesterday he willed that we fight. Today he wills that I negotiate.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Kal¡¯kuris shrugged, ¡°Who can say?¡±


    Colonel Hood stepped forward to stand next to Gorst, ¡°Tell us then, what does the king want today?¡±


    ¡°Today he wishes to demonstrate his mercy.¡± Kal¡¯kuris declared, ¡°The land speaks to him, and through him, the gods are given voice. Give over your civilians to our protection. We will return them safely to Vurun.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re mad,¡± Gorst said. His tone was cold and intense. A different kind of fury had taken him.


    ¡°No!¡± Kal¡¯kuris spoke, his voice impassioned and pleading, ¡°To continue is madness! Winter is here, and storms come. Snow and ice will take the pass. You have no food. You have no shelter for so many people! You must see this! Your people will all die if you stay! They will die if they press on!¡± He was speaking not only for Gorst but for all the thousands of people who remained and surrounded them on the open rocky fields around Golconda, most of whom were the colonists.


    Gorst did see it. Dryden saw it in his eyes as the emissary spoke. They all saw it. But to give up their people was to dishonour themselves, to disgrace themselves. It was admitting defeat. They had come so far on the promise that they could see their people over the pass and to the freedom of Andaban.


    Pugh stepped forward, ¡°Colonel, sir.¡± His eyes were pleading, ¡°We must. They will die.¡±


    Gorst turned to him, ¡°Captain, my daughter is among our colonists. She is everything to me. I cannot give her over to them, to see her raped and defiled by these barbarians. Better to die¡­¡±


    ¡°She will be protected.¡± Kal¡¯kuris interjected, ¡°Your noble daughters will enter my household. They will be as my own daughters. Not one man will touch them, I promise this.¡±


    ¡°What of the rest?¡± Gorst asked, his tone showed he already knew the answer.


    ¡°I cannot protect them all,¡± Kal¡¯kuris said sadly.


    ¡°What assurances do we have?¡± Hood demanded.


    ¡°None. The only assurance is that if they stay, they will die with all of you. If they come with us, there is life.¡±


    ¡°What of Roxana?¡± Dryden asked. He knew the answer, he only asked to make Kal¡¯kuris say it aloud.


    ¡°She will be the wife of Kurush. This is the king¡¯s will.¡±


    ¡°She will not be harmed?¡± Dryden asked.


    ¡°No more than any bride on her wedding night.¡± The man replied.


    ¡°Gods damn you.¡± Gorst replied, ¡°Fine. I will hold you to it. You will protect the noblewomen as if they were your own daughters.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡± Kal¡¯kuris replied, ¡°Let us take your people away from here. Once that is done, we can resume our feud.¡±


    Then the three riders turned and rode out of the encampment and off towards the place where the enemy was camped, just over the next ridge. Gorst was shaking with some combination of rage and helplessness as they watched them go. Dryden looked out over the assembled people. Nobody was moving. Everyone had heard the exchange. There were no secrets here. Nobody wanted to give the orders to start this great happening. Dryden turned to a sergeant who was watching for someone to order the mustering of the colonists, ¡°Make it so, sergeant. Gather the colonists. They¡¯re to be handed over.¡±


    The man hesitated, ¡°Sir. My wife and child¡­¡±


    ¡°Damnit man, it¡¯s everyone¡¯s wives and children. Make. It. So.¡± Dryden clenched his jaw as he said it.


    The sergeant turned and began bellowing out orders. The cry was taken up by the soldiers who began to herd the confused colonists towards the edge of the camp. A group of enemy cavalry appeared soon after, riding slowly and under a white flag. They were led by Kal¡¯kuris and they rode under the gold and black banner of An-Beya, the clan of the king.


    Shouting came from the side of the road and Lady Julia Gorst elbowed through a line of soldiers who were pushing civilians towards the road that led back down the hill, ¡°Father!¡± She shouted. She ran to him in her plain travelling dress, still filthy from the dust of the road, ¡°They say we are to be surrendered! Tell me it isn¡¯t so!¡±


    Gorst¡¯s face blanched. His eyes were full of grief. She turned away from him towards Dryden. He shrank back.


    ¡°John! Tell him this is madness! You cannot let us go! You know what these men will do!¡±


    ¡°Lady Julia, I¡­¡±


    She slapped him in the face, ¡°How dare you, sir!¡±


    His face was like stone, he did not react. The slap stung, but more his pride than his cheek, ¡°You and the other ladies will be protected. Kal¡¯kuris has promised.¡±


    She slapped him again, harder this time, ¡°You are all such brave men, and we are ever so grateful for it!¡± She shouted at all the officers this time, her voice full of scorn.


    ¡°Julia, please.¡± Gorst stepped towards his daughter and put his hand on her shoulder.


    She brushed off his hand and stalked off full of righteous anger. It was the last time she would see her father alive.


    As she walked away, Gorst turned to Dryden, ¡°John, if you live through this and I do not, bring my daughter home. Bring them all home.¡±


    Dryden only nodded in answer.


    They watched as their colonists left under escort by horsemen. They were led slowly down the same road that they had just climbed the day before. A road filled with death. Dryden, for the first time, looked back at the road they had come up. The road from the city of Vurun. They could not see the city, nor even the plains below, for the skies behind them were pitch black with carrion birds, silently circling, waiting patiently to pick clean the bones of war.

 Not Bloody Likely

    Chapter Thirty-Five


    That night the enemy came in force upon the encamped remnants of the army. It was good that pickets had been set far from the centre of the camp. It was also good that trenches and earthworks had been dug, led by the only two engineers who had survived. Musket fire lit the night. No soldier slept. Again and again, cavalry attacked, trying to find a weakness in the meagre defences. Again and again, they failed. It was not a battle so much as it was the enemy scouting and harassing them. Dryden watched from the walls with Hood. Gorst was down with his men in the thick of it. In the darkness, they could not see much except the muzzle flashes from the guns below and the fires from the enemy camps just over the surrounding hills. In the Vastrum camp and fort, they lit no fires, lest they give away their positions.


    With the dawn came a grim sight. Dead men strewn around the rubble of the temporary defences they had built. Enemy horses impaled on sharpened stakes the Vastrum infantry had set. There was no way for the officers watching from the wall to count the dead from here, but it seemed the number was perhaps well into the hundreds, more of them the enemy, but still far too many of their own.


    Off to the east, where the carrion birds feasted on the remains of their column, the sky was also filled with huge white puffy clouds laden with snow. Winter was truly coming to the mountains. Down in the valley, the winter was harsh but mercifully short. Up here it would last months. They were lucky that the Golconda and Settru Pass had not already been snowed in. That piece of luck appeared to be ending soon. The enemy came again in the mid-morning, but instead of attacking straight away, they arrayed themselves impressively on the ridge line behind which they were encamped. The handful of cannons that Golconda held had been repositioned on the wall to cover the camp.


    ¡°Shall I fire upon them?¡± One of the artillerymen asked Dryden.


    ¡°I think not yet. Hold until they begin their advance. With the second volley, they will be close, and you can let them have the grape.¡± He replied.


    But they did not advance. Instead, a handful of enemy cavalry moved forward. Behind them came three men riding what appeared to be donkeys. Again they came with white flags. The outer pickets let them through. They slowly made their way down the shallow slope. When they were close Dryden realized what was happening. It was their captured commanders riding the donkeys. Blackwater, Belfair, and Havor. They stopped just outside the earthworks.


    ¡°Blood and hounds,¡± Hood exclaimed as he realized what was happening.


    Dryden was already rushing down the steps. He slipped out the gate which was opened a crack. He ran to the front to where Gorst was standing at the front of the makeshift barricade.


    ¡°What the devil is this?¡± The commander demanded of Jaqu, the Fyrin officer who had been acting as an observer. Jaqu was sitting on a horse next to the three captured senior officers. He was now dressed in the dark blue robes of the eastern Vuruni warriors who lived beyond the Shan mountains.


    ¡°Your commanders have a message for you.¡± He said loudly, so all could hear.


    Blackwater looked exhausted and haggard. His face was pale. He had been old and his mind had been slipping, but now he truly looked like the elderly man that he was. He looked out across his surviving soldiers. The men stood defiant. He looked down at Colonel Gorst. His voice was weak and tired, ¡°Where am I, Marcus? What is this place?¡± Then he looked at Dryden, ¡°Lord Starlington? What are you doing here, I thought you had retired?¡±


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    ¡°Lord Starlington is my father, sir,¡± Dryden replied.


    ¡°Good heavens!¡± Blackwater replied. The old man swooned.


    ¡°General, sir, do you need aid?¡± Gorst asked, ¡°Someone help him!¡± He shouted. Both Havor and Belfair were trussed up, their hands behind their backs. None of the Vuruni went to help the general.


    ¡°Marcus. I believe I am unwell.¡± Blackwater said, a quaver in his voice. Then he fell from his donkey and died. A Vuruni hopped from his horse and went to the body, felt for breath. Then stood and shrugged.


    Jaqu cursed under his breath, ¡°Tie him to his donkey. We¡¯ll keep the body. You, Belfair! Stop this bloodshed, tell them your message.¡±


    The fat general looked ridiculous to Dryden sitting on his donkey. The man was red in the face. He looked from Blackwater¡¯s body to the men arrayed in their earthen defences. He shook his head.


    ¡°Tell the men!¡± Jaqu shouted at him in his thick Fyrin accent, ¡°You were ready to tell them not an hour ago. Tell them!¡± He drew his sword and threatened Belfair with it.


    ¡°No.¡± Belfair insisted, ¡°You¡¯ll have to kill me.¡±


    ¡°Damn you, Belfair. I¡¯ll say it!¡± Havor said. The lieutenant colonel looked gaunt and drawn. He was a shadow of himself. His wounds were bandaged, but the man looked like he might not live long.


    Jaqu struck Belfair straight in the face with the butt of his sword. Belfair fell to the ground where he rolled and groaned. Then he went back to Havor, ¡°Say it!¡± He was growing frustrated.


    ¡°Surrender!¡± Havor shouted, his voice weak, ¡°They will kill all of you if you do not! You cannot survive what is coming! Perhaps you can hold out against this enemy army. Maybe. You are battle-hardened, tough men, every one of you! Perhaps you can even survive the necromancy that Vurun employs, I will not deny that it is possible! But even the most stubborn of you must admit that you cannot hold against that!¡± He pointed to the coming storms, ¡°Not without food! Without shelter! Without wood to burn!¡± He gestured around them, ¡°You have only room in that fort for a few of you! You will die when the snows come! You will eat your horses and then be forced to eat one another! Even if a handful of you live, surviving on the flesh of your brothers, when spring comes, and the pass clears, you will be in the same place, facing the same foe! Golconda is not a place for men to live! You must go from here, and the only way is surrender! So give up your arms! Please!¡± His voice became more pleading as he spoke. Every man heard his words.


    Then from among the throng of hushed soldiers who stood on the barricades someone shouted, ¡°Not bloody likely!¡±


    A cheer went up from the men who were standing there and from those in the fort. Others echoed the words of defiance. Fear and hopelessness were gone, the men now had grim determination in their eyes.


    ¡°What is your answer? Will you not surrender?¡± Jaqu demanded of Gorst.


    The colonel shook his head, ¡°You heard the men.¡±


    Jaqu turned to the major, ¡°Dryden, you are a sensible man. A soldier if ever there was one. Surely you can see that this is not reasonable!¡±


    Dryden gave him a wry smile, ¡°I find that men are often unreasonable. It is our natural state. Perhaps you will find our women more reasonable company, now that they are your prisoners.¡±


    ¡°What have you to fight for now, without your women to protect?¡±


    ¡°I thought you knew us well enough by now. Duty and honour, sir. It¡¯s all we ever had to fight for.¡±


    ¡°Damn you and your false honour. You will all die here. Let it not be said that I did not try to save you!¡± The Fyrin officer shouted.


    Then Jaqu spurred his horse and tugged the reins and the whole group of Vuruni along with the prisoners made its way back to the Vuruni lines. It was not long before they were safely back behind their lines. With a cry, the whole line of the enemy army and all its cavalry surged forward towards the fortified Vastrum army. Dryden drew his sabre from its scabbard, raised the sword in the air, looked back at the top of the wall at the artilleryman, and shouted ¡°Fire!¡± as he brought his sword down. The cannon atop the wall of the fort roared, belching iron and smoke at the enemy cavalry. Dryden turned to face the enemy. Men loaded muskets and fixed bayonets. Whether they would survive remained to be seen, but Havor had been right about at least one thing: these were battle-hardened soldiers, all. There had only ever been one choice for these men. Fight.

 Three Cheers For the Colonel

    Chapter Thirty-Six


    The enemy could not charge in and slaughter all the Vastrum men in one go. The bulwarks that had been dug from the hard ground by soldiers with their entrenching spades were built well, considering the conditions. Many a fight had been hard won, not on the open field, but by digging in and defending a position. That was what the army did now. The enemy cavalry wheeled and shot and tried to draw out the Vastrum men. Then, when that failed, they tried to come over the barricades with horses. Finally, they tried on foot. Dryden walked up and down the line with a handful of men including his few surviving cavalrymen looking for a gap to plug. The line was stout. They found few. Mar and their few other wizards blasted away with his spells. The cannons hammered down on the enemy. By midday, the battle was won and the Vuruni had been driven off. The fields were filled with Vuruni warriors and their horse.


    Of the thousand or so men that remained, half were sepoys. A quarter were company mercenaries or remnants of the original garrison that had held Golconda. The core units of Vastrum infantry, including the grenadiers, had been decimated by the Belfair¡¯s poorly timed square formation. The cavalry had been broken by the necromancy of Aisa and finished in defence of the column coming up the slope to Golconda. Much of the sepoy infantry had been devastated in the rearguard action. The rangers had been depleted while acting as the vanguard. Many officers had been sniped by enemy jezail. Excepting a few core sepoy companies, any semblance of unit cohesion was gone. What remained was a hodgepodge of survivors from different units, each of them wounded and bloody. Only tough men were left.


    Gorst sat looking out at the battlefield around Golconda. Somewhere in the fighting he had taken a deep cut on his cheek. He had a faraway look in his eyes and he kept glancing back at the storm clouds that were gathering. Then he would look again up to the top of the pass where a line of enemy waited behind their stone wall.


    ¡°Sir, you ought to go have that looked at.¡± Dryden offered, gesturing to his colonel¡¯s cheek.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± Gorst replied, ¡°Or as fine as I can be anyway. I suppose the sooner we get this over with, the better it¡¯ll be, eh?¡± He gestured to the pass.


    One of the junior lieutenants who was sitting around got brave and asked, ¡°Why can¡¯t we just keep fighting them here, we seem to be winning.¡±


    ¡°Insufficient ammunition, no food, no shelter for half of us, and the snows are coming. Captain Pugh had the right of it. We can¡¯t stay long. At some point, they¡¯ll stop coming to attack and they¡¯ll just settle into the siege. Unlike us, they can bring up supplies to stay here for a time. Our men are already getting hungry. We¡¯re already on quarter rations and that only gives us three days before the fort¡¯s provisions are gone. They were meant to last the winter, but only for a hundred men, not the nearly thousand that we have left. Might as well go for it before we¡¯ve no strength. The pass is just right there. They won¡¯t dare follow us down towards Andaban, not far anyhow. If we can get through, we can get home.¡±


    ¡°If this is all so bleak, and they must simply keep us here, then why do they attack?¡± The same lieutenant asked.


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    ¡°They don¡¯t want to stay here all winter any more than we do.¡± Dryden answered for the colonel, ¡°Better to get it over with now. They¡¯ll lose men to the cold too, and disease. You don¡¯t want to besiege someone if you can help it. Better to end the fight quickly. I should think they¡¯ll give us another try or two before they settle in.¡±


    ¡°Not if we make our push for the top first, though,¡± Gorst said.


    ¡°Indeed.¡± Dryden agreed, ¡°Let us retire to the fort and plan this thing in earnest.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Gorst said, and so they did.


    All the remaining senior officers went back to the fort. The soldiers were left to man the defences. A few lieutenants were left to man the wall in case of another attack. The group of officers was rather small, perhaps only a dozen men. They all circled around Gorst in the centre of the courtyard. It was not a complicated matter. There were no tables with maps or little figures to denote units in the army. Gorst simply took his swagger stick and knelt in the dirt of the old courtyard to draw the plan.


    ¡°Koen.¡± He looked up at the towering ranger lieutenant, ¡°You volunteered to lead the front. Take what¡¯s left of the rangers and grenadiers, such as they are and screen our advance as you can. You must not stop advancing up the slope. Stop and we all die there. Don¡¯t worry about formations. Spread out thin across the front. Don¡¯t shoot back, their cover is too good.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t shoot back?¡± Koen asked, unsure.


    ¡°The bullet is a fool, but the bayonet is a fine fellow, Suvor told me that during the siege of Hagensborg. I believe you all know he¡¯s a better commander than I.¡± The officers nodded in agreement. That Suvor was better was an understatement. He was among the greatest generals the world had ever known. Their only surprise was that Gorst had served alongside the man as Suvor had been dead nearly 40 years now and Colonel Gorst was not much more than fifty. ¡°Their ditch is shallow, their wall is low. You get over that barricade and put them to the bayonet. We¡¯ll need our muskets for what comes after.¡±


    Koen nodded, ¡°Understood, sir.¡±


    ¡°Good, Captain Khathan, you bring up the rear with your sepoys. You¡¯ll have enemy light cavalry after you the whole way. Can your men retreat backwards uphill in good order?¡±


    ¡°We can.¡± He answered. Dryden had seen them fight, he believed it.


    ¡°That brings it to the rest of us.¡± He drew the line of the wall at the top of the pass and the fort down at the bottom. He drew lines to represent the rangers and the sepoys. Then he drew further lines staggered across the rise up to the pass, ¡°Sometimes the simplest things are the very hardest.¡± He said, ¡°Dryden, I want Pugh to take what¡¯s left of the Marrowick boys up the left side. They lost their last lieutenant in the fighting today.¡±


    ¡°Done,¡± Dryden replied, then looked to Pugh who nodded back at him.


    Gorst looked up to Pugh, ¡°Don¡¯t overextend on the left. I want all of us converging here at the low point in the rise.¡± He pointed to the middle of the pass.


    ¡°Hood, can I have Lieutenant Cavallo to command on the right?¡±


    ¡°You can.¡±


    ¡°Good. Dryden, I want you with me in the centre. If I fall, you¡¯ll command. Hood, I¡¯ll let you choose your own spot, where will you be?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll command the fort.¡± Hood replied, ¡°I¡¯ll keep those guns pounding their cavalry as long as I can.¡±


    All the other officers looked at him in surprise. To stay meant death. It was a noble sacrifice. None protested. They knew someone had to command the fort at Golconda. It was not a job any wanted. Even if they somehow managed to hold the fort, of which there was no guarantee, they were in for a long cold winter of starvation.


    When the planning was done Gorst looked around at all the assembled officers, ¡°Gentlemen, it has been an honour. Live, or die, I will see you on the other side.¡±


    ¡°Three cheers for Colonel Gorst and the King¡¯s Own! Three cheers for Colonel Hood and the 5<sup>th</sup> of Vurun!¡± Dryden shouted, ¡°Hip-hip!¡±


    ¡°Huzzah!¡± The other officers shouted in reply, suddenly full of vigour.


    ¡°Hip-hip!¡±


    ¡°Huzzah!¡±


    ¡°Hip-hip!¡±


    ¡°Huzzah!¡±

 In The Red Light Of Dawn

    Chapter Thirty-Seven


    They left Golconda in the black of night just before dawn. Gorst went out through the barricade first. They went as silently as it is possible for a thousand men walking over rocky ground. None spoke a word. No drums played, no pipes or bugles sounded. Every soldier marched with bayonets fixed to their muskets. Those officers who still had their horses led them out on foot to avoid being seen. A skeleton crew of the fort garrison, a few company mercenaries, and artillerymen stayed back in the fort commanded by Colonel Hood. The rest went out in the order that they were to climb the pass.


    Dryden shook hands with Pugh in silence as they parted, Captain Pugh going up to the left and Dryden the centre. Lieutenant Cavallo, one of Hood¡¯s officers, a mercenary from Ist, and a solid veteran infantry leader, commanded the right flank. Several units of sepoys took up positions at the back of the army. Dryden stayed with Gorst. Mar, Sergeant Locke, and Private Harper went with Dryden. Then, with everyone in position, their actions still unnoticed by the Vuruni army, the Vastrum men began to march up the steep hill towards Settru Pass.


    The walking was hard for most of the men. There was an easy road up the middle of the approach to the pass, but everywhere else on the rise was poor terrain for marching. It was hard for men to stay together as they went and it did not take long before the order of the march was poor and slow. They had been marching upwards for perhaps ten minutes when finally the horn of the enemy sounded. They had hoped it would take the enemy longer to see what they were about, but Dryden knew they had been lucky to get this far. So many men are not easy to hide, even in the pitch black. Now the first hint of light was beginning to creep into the sky in the east. Dryden took one last look backwards, then took Rosie¡¯s reins, slipped his foot into the stirrup and mounted up. The other officers did the same. There was no point in hiding now.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you stay down? You¡¯ll be an easy target up there. If you and the major die, who will give us orders?¡± Private Harper asked Colonel Gorst, who rode nearby.


    Gorst looked around at the men and then back at the young soldier. This was his answer, ¡°An officer¡¯s whole point, once the battle starts, is to keep the morale of his men high. Battles are chaos and smoke and blood, son, a hurricane of powder and shot and bayonets. You make your plans before it starts and watch them fall to pieces. There is no controlling it once it starts. Orders are lost or disobeyed. Men are afraid. All reason is lost at the first volley. Two things keep men moving forward. To see their commanders unafraid, and to follow the king¡¯s colours.¡± He smiled wistfully at the young man, ¡°Forward!¡± He said loudly for all to hear, ¡°Forward to the ramparts of the enemy, and onward to the friendly gates of Andaban!¡±


    The men gave a cheer then and marched faster. Dryden hazarded a glance over his shoulder and saw hordes of cavalry coming from the direction of the enemy camp. They were disorganized and riding freely across the rocky terrain. The only thing stopping them was the thin line of sepoy infantry which had turned to face them and was preparing to fight. Cannon thundered from the fort as the riders came on. Men and horse were plucked from the charging mob as cannonballs ripped bloody gashes in the horde. But there were so few cannon and so many riders. The sepoy lines fired one volley, then two and the riders swerved at the last moment as ranks of horsemen fell and those behind them floundered. Then, as the horse began to recover to come again for the Guludan infantry, he heard a bugle calling for squares and the whole of the sepoy infantry began to form up.


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    ¡°Now that is soldiery, Major,¡± Gorst said to Dryden, and it was.


    The square formation began to take shape quickly. Two ranks of infantry set in a square shape facing outwards. The front row kneeling, the second standing behind. The horse refused to ride into the bayonets which bristled outwards like a porcupine. The second rank fired into the cavalry felling horse and riders alike. Crates of ammunition were stacked up in the middle along with a handful of sepoy officers led by Captain Khathan. Quickly they were obscured by riders and the smoke from their muskets. Cannon fired in around them, shooting close but never hitting the square. Soon the cavalry backed off and began to reform. More riders were still coming from over the hill. Dryden wondered how many there were now, how many clans had come to follow Kurush, how many came to kill off the last soldiers of the Vastrum army, the army of oppression that had conquered and brutally ruled their land.


    The marching lines of men continued to make their way up the hill. Behind them the square held and the cannon covered them. Dryden knew this would only last until the bullets and powder ran out. They had given much of what they had to those sepoys. The army would not need their guns to take this hill. At the top, it would be a bloody business for fine fellows.


    The front of the army, a skirmish line of rangers and grenadiers, perhaps numbering only fifty men, was halfway up when the first jezail shots from above rang out. The line was not thickly defended. It heartened him to see that while there were shots, the wall was not manned by a thousand furious Vuruni warriors, but rather by a hundred or so. Gorst had the right of it. They had to get bayonets stuck into those men and force their way through.


    Something buzzed by Dryden¡¯s ear. He swatted at it, thinking it a horsefly or other large bug. Then another thing whizzed by with a cracking sound. He looked around for the fly again. Then something buzzed in and struck a man marching nearby. The man fell to his knees gurgling. It was a musket ball fired from above. It had hit the soldier in the throat.


    ¡°Show no fear, Major.¡± Gorst reminded him in a hushed tone, ¡°The men are watching us to see how we react.¡± Then he turned back to the men and nodded, ¡°Forward men, up and at them, at the double now!¡± A bugler blew out the call for double time and the men began to march more quickly.


    Dryden looked back again at the enemy who was still struggling to fight their way past the sepoys. Khathan¡¯s square was doing its job and then some, though he could not see the Guludan square, he could see the results of the fighting. Every so often he gained a glimpse through the smoke and enemy cavalry. Finally, he turned again and looked upon his own goal. In the last glimpse he saw of them, the Guludan soldiers stood strong in their square against the hordes of Vuruni, their golden tiger banner flying high in the red light of dawn.

 The Courage of Vastrum

    Chapter Thirty-Eight


    Men died on the slope up to the pass. A thousand men had started the climb. They fell by the dozen as they marched up the gruelling rock-strewn climb to the top. Jezail fire rained down upon them. Hundreds were dead by the time they neared the top, a trail of Vastrum dead leading to the pass. But hundreds remained. Fury built up in Dryden as he rode, to see so many men senselessly shot down. The helplessness turned to rage as they came nearer to the enemy. Dryden looked to his right and saw that the men there were still moving up the slope. He looked to his left trying to see if Pugh was still alive and found him still on his horse, riding to and fro encouraging his men as they climbed the hard rocky hill. Ahead the rangers and grenadiers were mostly gone, only a few still climbed up ahead of the main force. Dryden didn¡¯t see Koen there anymore, but neither had he seen the big man fall. Gorst¡¯s horse took a bullet, and the old Colonel had been given a horse by one of his lieutenants. Then that horse had fallen to a bullet too. Rosie had taken a bullet in her rump as well, but she still climbed the hill as strong and sturdy as ever, with only a slight limp as she walked.


    Private Harper still carried the banner of the 13<sup>th</sup> in his left hand and furled up and balanced on his shoulder. There seemed almost no sense in his using it to lead men. The 13<sup>th</sup> that had been stationed in Vurun was nearly all dead, but the young man had kept the regimental colours with him, despite that, and even though he was missing half his arm.


    Dryden could feel the fury building in the men around him. The anticipation of finally being able to put a bayonet into the men who had been raining down shots through the whole army. As they got close he heard a cry of distress from some men who looked back over their shoulders. He looked back too. Though he had not seen the Guludan soldiers fall or break, he saw now that the enemy had gotten through or past them. The cavalry was much behind them, but they were catching up quickly, coming up the slope with speed.


    ¡°Courage men! Courage!¡± He shouted. Gorst turned back and looked, ¡°We got better than I could have hoped for from Captain Khathan and those Guludans. Damned fine work they did for us.¡± Then he turned and shouted to the men, ¡°Almost at the top lads! Almost at the top!¡±


    The line of stone with soldiers firing from it was almost in range now. The wall was not high. It was only a small ditch with a long pile of stones. It seemed such a small thing as they came up to it. The enemy with jezail still fired at them, but it seemed less as they didn¡¯t want to shoot their own approaching cavalry. They were so close, but it seemed the cavalry would catch them before they made the wall.


    ¡°Mar, can you introduce yourself to the cavalry approaching the rear?¡± Dryden asked the wizard.


    ¡°Aye. I can do that.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be gentle, Mar.¡± Dryden jested.


    ¡°When am I ever?¡± Mar inhaled a long puff from his aethium cigarette. Indigo smoke swirled up across his face, whipped away by the cold breeze. Wind kicked up powdery snow that had fallen in the night. Then the wizard grinned wickedly and began to weave his spell.


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    Dryden smelled the smell of horse and heard a whinnying on the breeze. Rosie stamped her feet and tried to turn, wanting to join her kin. Dryden reined her in. They heard the faint sound of a man shouting in the heat of battle followed by the thunder of hooves. The ground shook. He saw for a moment the ghostly image of the old 13<sup>th</sup> given form in the blowing snow. The ghostly cavalry crashed headlong down the mountain and slammed into the oncoming horsemen. The spectral horsemen ploughed down into them, crushing and knocking them down and trampling them into the rocks and snow. Those Vuruni cavalry not trampled turned back and rode away from the spectre of The Bloody 13<sup>th</sup> in fear. They remembered what those men had done and they wanted no part of it. Even those at the top of the slope stopped firing as they watched the ghostly sight in awe.


    ¡°What is that spell called?¡± Dryden asked as he watched in wonder.


    ¡°It has no name, it is a spell of my own design,¡± Mar said, with a faraway look in his eyes as he watched his own handiwork. He looked weary at the working of the sorcery.


    The Vastrum army had continued forward and upward. They were close enough now to charge. In the pause created by Mar¡¯s ghostly 13<sup>th</sup>, Gorst raised his sword and brought it down. Bugles sounded. Men roared. Together the remnants of the army charged the last bit up the hill. All men had their bayonets fixed. Dryden spurred Rosie along with them. Private Harper and Sergeant Locke rode together at the enemy. The stone wall was low enough for their horses to jump. As they rode, Harper let the banner unfurl, the banner of the 13<sup>th</sup> flying strong above them. The soldiers behind the wall hesitated as they saw it, fear in their eyes. The enemy on their small section of wall broke and ran just before they leapt the wall. Harper pointed the banner down like a lance, tucked it under his arm, and skewered a man with it. Dryden stabbed a man, leaving the sword in the enemy. Then the infantry caught up to them and swarmed the barrier. Men fought and died atop the heights of the Settru Pass. Dryden saw a Vastrum infantry sergeant run a Vuruni man through with his bayonet, turn and shoot a second enemy, and then follow it up by killing a third man with the bayonet again before the sergeant himself was shot and killed. It was not long until the Vuruni men had been put to the bayonet or had fled. There was no time to celebrate. Dryden sat on his horse next to the wall. The enemy cavalry had reformed after Mar¡¯s sorcery and were coming again.


    ¡°Reform! To the wall you bastards!¡± Gorst was riding back and forth shouting, ¡°To the wall! Load your muskets lads!¡±


    Dryden looked about and took stock of what men they had left. They had begun the hill with a thousand. Two hundred and fifty had been left to guard the rear. They were now perhaps two hundred men still standing and able to fight. Not near enough. They were also low on ammunition. The men formed up along the wall, muskets pointed down at the foe. The fearsome enemy cavalry screamed up at them as they rode. Their horses rode up the slope as if it were little more than a flat plain, their wicked curved swords held aloft. He could see the whites of their eyes, their screaming mouths. His pulse quickened. They were charging hard.


    Gorst shouted the order to fire. One final blast of powder and fire and smoke and hot lead thundered down at the cavalry. Enemy horsemen fell, but not enough. It was then that the courage of Vastrum failed. With the enemy in front and a clear road to Andaban behind them, the men broke and ran all across the line. Dryden saw Gorst shouting for order. The king¡¯s banner, the last banner of the army, a blue field with a rampant dragon, waved in the morning sun. Men ran for their lives beneath it. Gorst¡¯s white horse reared up, his raised sabre caught in the light. Then the enemy charge hit home and all was madness.

 A Fine Place To Stand

    Chapter Thirty-Nine


    A few men held. Not enough to win, but some. The charging Vuruni cavalry leapt over the wall, screaming and twirling their talwars and khukuris as they came and screaming battle cries as they did. Their black and gold banners flew high above them, their gold helmets shining in the sun. If Dryden were Vuruni, it would have been a sight to behold. Dryden had lost his sword in an enemy soldier. He drew his pistol and shot the first man to reach him. He deftly moved his horse aside and between two more. Rosie responded with agility, despite her injuries and exhaustion. Then he spurred his horse towards his colonel whom he had lost sight of in the melee. He simply followed that last banner which rose above the slaughter.


    Those few men who had held now found themselves in a small bit of luck. The cavalry were like hunters, and they found now that fleeing men made easy prey. Something primal triggered in their minds and they rode to the slaughter, hacking down the retreating Vastrum deserters. Harper and Locke had not run. They fought through whirling cavalry trying to keep up with Dryden¡¯s pace. Harper had a sword in his good left hand and fought like a devil. He had dropped his reins and now led the horse with his knees. Sergeant Locke alternated between his sword and blunderbuss, loading his gun when he could. Mar followed behind, exhausted from the effort of his wizardry. It was not easy, but slowly they made their way through the chaos to where Gorst was wheeling his horse around, fighting off their enemies. A handful of men stood around him. The foe now encircled the colonel and his few soldiers, seeking to hem them in, likely to capture them. Muskets fired somewhere around them and men screamed and fought with sword and bayonet.


    Dryden looked around for somewhere defensible. He saw a spot at the left of the line. It was an outcropping that stood strewn with boulders and jagged rocks where the low pass met the mountain. A few Vastrum soldiers were already climbing up into the spot, seeking a dry island above the flood of death.


    ¡°Sir, there!¡± Dryden shouted at Gorst, pointing.


    Gorst looked and saw it, ¡°With me!¡± He shouted at the few men still with him and together those men and horse charged towards the defensible spot.


    The enemy jumped back in surprise. They had not expected such a rapid movement, and they made way. As they rode, a shot rang out, and Gorst suddenly gave a start and fell forward on his horse. His feet were stuck in his stirrups and he gripped the pommel desperately. The horse, feeling its rider falling, started to pull away, so Dryden grabbed his reins and guided the horse to follow as they rode. The ride was a desperate one, but suddenly musket fire rang out from the hill above and the enemy riders fell away, some dead and others giving ground.


    The small party climbed the short rise up to the outcropping. The terrain was difficult, so Dryden and the other riders dismounted and were forced to lead their horses up into the boulders on foot. Locke and Dryden together helped Gorst from his horse. The old colonel looked pale and the man pointed to his chest. Dryden saw the blood then. He and the sergeant hoisted Gorst onto their shoulders and bore him further up into their new position where the enemy riders dared not follow.


    ¡°Dryden!¡± A voice called out, ¡°You made it, I wasn¡¯t sure you would.¡± It was Captain Pugh.


    ¡°Pugh, old boy! I thought you¡¯d fallen! I looked for you and couldn¡¯t find you on the climb.¡± Dryden exclaimed. He and Locke put the colonel down in a spot that looked like a more comfortable bit of rock.


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    ¡°Me? Never. My horse on the other hand. They shot her dead in the first volley.¡± He said sadly, ¡°I¡¯m not a man for going on foot, let me tell you. If we get out of this spot, Dryden, I swear I shall never go on foot again anywhere. I am a man for horses, sir.¡±


    ¡°Situation?¡± Gorst gasped. He was having some difficulty breathing.


    ¡°I¡¯ve arrayed my men around this knoll. Good cover, you see. When the men broke in the middle I took my men up here to see if we could ride out the slaughter.¡±


    ¡°Yours didn¡¯t break?¡± Dryden asked.


    ¡°Marrowick boys don¡¯t break easily, as you should know, being one yourself.¡± Pugh grinned at Dryden.


    The major wondered how Captain Pugh could smile and even be jovial at a time like this. He did not mention it, however. He looked back around one of the large boulders to see what the enemy was up to. Several Vastrum men were running far down the hill, pursued by cavalry. One of them looked like he might make it for a moment, but one of the riders took up their jezzail and gunned him down. Soon all were dead but those few on the rocky outcrop.


    Gorst¡¯s breathing was ragged. Mar knelt next to him and began to dress the wound, ¡°It hit his lung.¡± He said as he worked. He was no medic, but there were no proper medics left. At least Mar knew the anatomy of a man from his time in the wizard¡¯s conservatory. There was little he could do, however, for the chest wound. Even if they¡¯d had a proper surgeon, it was the kind of wound a man did not often survive. They could only make him comfortable and wait for the end to come.


    ¡°Sir,¡± Dryden said, kneeling beside Gorst opposite Mar, ¡°What are your orders?¡±


    ¡°Did any of the cowards make it?¡± He coughed as he asked.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Damn. No word will get to Andaban, then. That will not do.¡± Gorst coughed again, this time some blood came with the cough. He paused and took a few ragged breaths. How many men do we have still?¡±


    ¡°Twenty-seven, including officers,¡± Pugh replied.


    He sat thinking for a moment. When the colonel spoke again it was soft, ¡°How many horse are left?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Five,¡± Pugh answered.


    ¡°Dryden, take five men and ride for Andaban. Pick any five you like, just leave me one good officer to take charge after I die. The rest will cover you as best they can with what ammunition we have left.¡±


    ¡°We will go tonight, then, in the dark.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take Pugh, Mar, Locke, and Harper. I want men who know how to ride.¡±


    Pugh sighed, ¡°Sir. It cannot be me.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Dryden asked.


    ¡°You must leave an officer.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave someone else.¡±


    ¡°There are no other officers besides us.¡±


    Dryden looked around at the men who were gathered in their small hollow between the boulders and those who were positioned around overlooking the pass. He saw that Pugh was correct. There were no other officers. There were two sergeants, but no one to take command.


    Dryden shook his head, ¡°Damn it all. Pugh, you lead the group. Take Rosie and get out.¡±


    Again Pugh shook his head, ¡°He asked for you to lead, sir. Nobody else has your skill on a horse. Nobody else knows the enemy like you know them.¡±


    ¡°Bloody fucking damn it all. Damn these bastards.¡± Dryden felt a kind of helpless rage come over him. He stood and shouted at the sky in anger, then he walked to the edge of the outcrop, standing tall, taking no cover, and screamed, ¡°Damn you! You are all dead men! Every bloody one of you will die by my wicked hand or the hands of men I command. I swear to all your gods and devils that it will be so!¡± The words echoed around between the glacier-peaked mountains. Somewhere something rumbled and Dryden felt that something had heard him, something more than the ears of men and horses or even the stone itself. His words had been carved in hatred within the land itself. The land has a long memory, the witch had said. He knew bloody vengeance would come to these lands and he regretted his words as soon as he said them.


    Then he turned back to his men. They had felt the power of his words as well and looked at him now with something between fear and awe. ¡°I need one man who knows his way with a horse. If we¡¯re still here by then, we leave at midnight. Who will dare to ride with me?¡±

 Honour In All Things

    Chapter Forty


    There was nothing to be done now but wait for an attack, or midnight, whichever came first. A huge billowing cloud full of ice and snow slowly blew in to block the sun and shadow fell across the pass. In the hours that followed, the enemy milled about, forming a semi-circle around the hillock and occasionally taking a shot at the men. But the cover that the boulders provided was good and few bullets found a mark. Two men were shot, but neither were wounded badly. After several hours of waiting, a small group of riders approached. Light snow fell around them as they rode up towards the group on the outcrop. Dryden recognized the riders. Kal¡¯kuris, the so-called emissary, and Jaqu, the so-called Fyrin observer, and a handful of others. Their horses stopped not far from the outcropping, just within shouting distance.


    ¡°Who commands?¡± Kal¡¯kuris¡¯ voice rang out.


    Gorst was still alive. He had not worsened much from before, but neither was he improving. He was fading slowly, bit by bit. He still had his faculties but was in no condition to shout. He gestured to Dryden, ¡°Speak for me.¡±


    ¡°Colonel Gorst still commands here,¡± Dryden shouted down.


    ¡°Is that you, Dryden? Why does he not speak for himself?¡± Kal¡¯kuris shouted back.


    ¡°He is wounded.¡±


    Jaqu shouted up next, ¡°Tell him I am sorry for that! Give him my compliments on the assault up the pass! Never in my life have I seen a feat such as that! Impossible is what I would have called it before today! To take those heights with only a thousand infantry! Remarkable! It should have taken ten thousand! It is only too bad that his men broke at the last!¡±


    Pugh snorted and whispered to Dryden, ¡°Does he know that flattery is seen as a weakness in Vastrum?¡±


    Kal¡¯kuris spoke before Dryden could think of any worthy reply, ¡°Surrender, Dryden. I know you Vastrum men are stubborn! I know you will fight to the last man! Please, for the sake of your survivors!¡±


    ¡°They will kill our men either way.¡± Pugh whispered again, ¡°Maybe they¡¯ll keep us few officers for ransom, but they will certainly kill the rest.¡±


    Dryden nodded, then shouted back, ¡°I cannot trust your word on that!¡±


    ¡°You can!¡± The emissary shouted, frustrated, ¡°Your women have not been harmed! I have told you they would be safe, and I am a man of my word!¡± He insisted.


    ¡°How can I trust your king, then?¡± Dryden shouted down, ¡°He who lured us out of Vurun with false promises, only to build this wall and set all these traps for us?¡±


    ¡°Your officers that we have captured, they still live!¡± He shouted up.


    ¡°Do they? Does Havor still live? Belfair? What of Blackwater?¡± Dryden shouted down.


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    ¡°Blackwater did not live. He was an old man, and frail!¡±


    ¡°You ambushed them under a banner of truce! You were there, Kal¡¯kuris, and you too Jaqu! You were both there and said nothing! Your king says one thing and does another. He is a liar.¡±


    ¡°That is blasphemy!¡± Kal¡¯kuris shouted!


    ¡°Yet it is true! I judge him only by his actions! Let us leave or come up here and kill us if you can!¡± Dryden shouted down.


    ¡°You are as stubborn as Colonel Hood!¡± Kal¡¯kuris replied, ¡°Fine. You want death? Have it!¡± He turned his horse and rode off again, followed closely by Jaqu and their guards.


    He shouted something to one of their cavalry commanders and the Vuruni cavalry began to form up. Snow was falling more heavily by the time the Vuruni cavalry came at them. All the muskets were loaded. No soldier had more than a few shots remaining to them, but their bayonets were still sharp. Dryden loaded his pistol.


    ¡°Dryden.¡± Gorst croaked.


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°Take my sword. I am not for this fight.¡± He unstrapped the sword belt from his waist and handed the whole thing up to Dryden. The sword was a fine weapon. Dryden took it by its hilt and pulled it partway out of its scabbard. Inscribed on it were some flowing runes in the old script of Styrania. He was not well learned in that tongue, but he thought it translated to something like ¡°Honour In All Things.¡± He slid it back securely, then strapped it to his waist.


    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±


    ¡°Thank me by living. Thank me by coming back here and fulfilling that bloody oath of yours. Thank me by killing those bastards and by rescuing my Julia.¡± Then the Colonel swooned and lay back again. ¡°Don¡¯t let them take me alive, Dryden. Don¡¯t let them take me¡­¡± Then he coughed up more bloody froth. He still breathed raggedly.


    ¡°Take my pistol, sir,¡± Dryden said, and he handed the pistol to Colonel Gorst.


    ¡°Thank you, lad.¡±


    Then the enemy came once more amidst the snow and wind. Their horses were covered in a hoar frost and their armor dusted with snow. They came wheeling about in a large circle, shooting at the knoll as they came. Men hunkered down in the cover and did not fire, waiting for them to approach. Finally, when this wheeling and shooting had proven ineffective, the horsemen dismounted and began to come up on foot. When they were close, Dryden shouted to fire and a volley of muskets discharged in a great thundering crash. Enemies died and the survivors fell back. Muskets were reloaded and they waited again. When the Vuruni warriors came close, the small group of Vastrum men fired again. The enemy would not come a third time. They backed off again and waited. Slowly but surely more soldiers came up and over the pass.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t they come?¡± Locke said, frustrated, ¡°Let¡¯s get this bloody over with.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re waiting for more men to climb the pass so they can overwhelm us,¡± Pugh answered grimly.


    ¡°That¡¯s only one of their clans, what¡¯s left of them. More clans will come. I expect they¡¯re still dealing with Colonel Hood down at Golconda. These men are here to keep us penned in like sheep.¡±


    Pugh sighed, ¡°Dryden, I know the plan was for you to leave at midnight, but I think it is better if you go soon. The longer we wait, the better the chance that the whole host comes up from Golconda. If that happens, there will be no getting out.¡±


    ¡°But if we go now, we go without the cover of night.¡±


    They could not see over the ridge of the pass. The knoll was just on the side of the pass that led down and away towards Andaban. They could not see Golconda or the eastern approach from where they held.


    ¡°You there, private.¡± Dryden pointed to a stout young Marrowick man who was barely more than a boy. Can you sneak down and look just over the ridge? Tell me if the enemy is coming or if Golconda still holds.¡±


    There were no guards back the way they had come. Most of them were well out of musket range and looking to prevent fleeing soldiers from running down the long slope towards the road to Andaban. The young man got down on hands and knees and crept quickly and quietly towards the ridge line. He looked over and his face blanched. He quickly scurried back.


    ¡°They¡¯re coming, sir. Golconda has fallen. The whole army is coming.¡±


    Dryden stood and looked back to his few remaining men, ¡°Ready the horses. Burn midnight, we ride now.¡±

 Ride Like Demons

    Chapter Forty-One


    They left without farewells, for there was no time. Dryden mounted up on Rosie. His men mounted their horses in silence behind him. Every horse was exhausted and caked in dust. Every man was a shell of himself. There was no food and no rest to be had up here in the mountains with an enemy army bearing down upon them. They took little ammunition, leaving most for their comrades who manned the little rocky outcrop. There was little enough even for those men. There was no bugle and no fanfare. Dryden kicked his horse out from behind a great boulder and the men did the same. Then they were away in a cloud of dust, their hoofbeats echoing off the mountains around them. Dryden grunted with every one of Rosie¡¯s strides, his ribs still aching as he rode. He gritted his teeth as they went. When the heat of battle came again, he would not feel his aches and pains anymore. He would only feel them after, and only if he lived. There was no time for trifling concerns such as broken ribs or missing hands or bullet holes ripped through their flesh. There was only the ride and the fight now. As they left, a single pistol shot rang out. Dryden didn¡¯t dare look back. He knew that Gorst had taken his own life. Pugh would be in command of the doomed remnant now.


    They were seen quickly by the enemy. The suddenness of their departure surprised the enemy just a bit, but in almost no time at all a contingent of horsemen were riding hard to intercept them across the rocky ground. Rosie was fast. She was not the largest horse, nor the fastest, nor the very strongest, but she was sturdy and built of an endurance that few horses could match. He put the spurs to her then, hard enough that he felt poorly about it afterwards. They had to reach Andaban. Gorst had made that clear, lest Andaban fall as well, and then the whole set of far-flung colonies across the vast north and east of the empire. Take Vurun, and you took the supply of aethium. Take Andaban, and you took the gateway to an empire.


    This had always been their plan, Dryden realized as they rode. Vurun was the first step for them, not their main prize. They wanted to take the eastern holdings of Vastrum. All of them. All the catalysts, more valuable than gold, in all the lands of the east and south. The aethium of Vurun, the gris ports of Dravan, the Salvenium plantations of Gulud, the eperus mines of Huz, and more. So many more. Losing Vurun was bad enough, but there would be no stopping them if they had Andaban. So he spurred Rosie again and rode hard.


    His men rode with him, spurring their horses to a dangerous pace down the hill. The enemy came on quicker, however. Their horses were fresher. A man came at their right and Sergeant Locke blasted him with his blunderbuss as they rode. Another came from behind with a wicked-looking scimitar and swung at Harper who took the blow across his back and fell from his horse with a cry. Then he was gone behind them. Dryden pulled Gorst¡¯s sabre from its scabbard and nudged his horse close to the man¡¯s as they rode fast. He swung first at the man, but when the man parried it, he swung at the horse¡¯s face. The horse pulled up hard whinnying in pain and went over, crushing the man. Dryden and the rest rode on. He hazarded a look back and saw Harper lying on the ground. The private did not move. His horse went on, following the rest, and took no note of its fallen rider.


    Still, they rode down the mountain where the pass narrowed a bit. More enemy came. There were too many. The horses of the small group were tiring, having run at a hard gallop down from the heights of the pass. There was no way to outrun them to Andaban. It was simply impossible, even with mounts as hardy as these.


    ¡°Mar, if ever you¡¯re going to do something, now is the time!¡± Dryden shouted to him as they rode.


    Mar looked up at the snow-packed peaks above. He took a large pinch of indigo aethium powder from his pouch and sniffed it straight into his nose. It was not his usual way. He usually preferred to smoke it, but such was the ride that it would have been impossible.


    ¡°Ride, sir! Ride like a demon, and do not stop, not even for the ending of the world!¡± He shouted to Dryden. Then Mar himself stopped, turned his horse, and began to cast his spell.


    Dryden heeded his words well. He looked straight ahead and spurred Rosie on. He could feel her exhaustion coming on, could feel that her strength was waning. He needed her to move, though he did not want to ride her to her death, ¡°Fly girl, just a little more. Fly like the wind.¡± He said to her, and she did.


    It started with a crack like thunder, something high in the mountains snapped. Then a whiff of saltpetre came on the breeze. Slowly a sound became audible, a rumble growing nearer and louder. Then it was like a roaring gale and Dryden heard great creaking booms as if the whole mountain was crashing down behind him. He felt snow around him and his horse, and icy dust blasted out from behind where they had come from. He knew not to stop. The last man who had volunteered to ride out, a tall and nameless grenadier did look for a moment. This action slowed him, and his horse was swept away and he too was gone. There were other riders around Dryden now, a handful of Vuruni, all of them whipping their horses to outride whatever sorcery was bearing down upon them. Locke fired his blunderbuss at one and the man disappeared into the white wall that chased them. Down they rode, into the valley. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, all was quiet.


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    Dryden, Locke, and four enemy Vuruni stood looking at one another. One of the enemy was Kal¡¯kuris. Behind them now was a wall of ice, snow and boulders. The whole face of the mountain was now bare. Mar had brought down what seemed a whole mountain of ice upon the pass. There was no getting through. These four men were the only thing now between them and Andaban.


    Locke started reloading his blunderbuss. Dryden heeled Rosie towards the nearest warrior. The man was slow, still in shock from seeing the glacier come down. Dryden hacked the sword down into his head. It sliced easily through flesh and bone. The man fell, a look of surprise still on his face. Locke fumbled while he reloaded. He aimed to shoot. Before he could, one of the enemy spurred his horse at the sergeant and their horses collided. The grizzled sergeant was knocked from his tired steed. Locke hit the ground hard and his blunderbuss flew from his hands. His horse trotted off. The sergeant struggled to his knees and scrambled for his weapon. The rider came back for him, swinging his sword low. The blunderbuss was in Locke¡¯s hands. He turned and shot. The Vuruni¡¯s talwar cleaved Locke through his shoulder down to his chest. The sergeant fell backwards dead, the sword still lodged in him. Then the Vuruni warrior slid backwards from his saddle and fell dead on the sand.


    Dryden and the third warrior faced off against one another, circling in their saddles. Kal¡¯kuris simply sat and watched. The warrior barked something at the emissary, probably a curse. He wanted help killing Dryden. Kal¡¯kuris pulled a pistol from his robes and aimed carefully. The man pulled the same trick with his horse. Rosie tried to move aside but was exhausted. The move knocked Dryden off balance, and he fell from his saddle, landing on his side. His ribs bent and cracked again in a fresh wave of agony. He tried to breathe, but his breath was short and new waves of pain hit him. After all this, he was beaten. The Vuruni grinned at him as he rode up, talwar raised high for the killing blow. Dryden reached for Gorst¡¯s sabre, but it was nowhere to be found, it had been knocked from his grasp. He awaited the killing blow. Kal¡¯kuris fired his pistol. The man fell, a look of surprise on his face and a bullet through his neck. Dryden was in too much pain to react, though he was as surprised as his dead enemy.


    ¡°Why?¡± He gasped at Kal¡¯kuris, ¡°Why kill your own man?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not one of mine. This man, he is more like you than he is like me. A conquerer who has been here so long he thinks the land is his. An-Bey, An-Dakal, Blackwater, Belfair, all the same.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re one of Colonel Hood¡¯s agents?¡± Dryden pushed himself to sitting.


    Kal¡¯kuris nodded, ¡°I am many things,¡± He answered, then nodded, ¡°I am that too, yes. One day we will drive all of you from this place, the Ans too.¡±


    ¡°Why work for Hood? Why help me?¡±


    ¡°I help Hood because he pays well, and one master is as good as another. Why help you? You promised the great one below the mountains you would kill all the Ans. I am a man of my word. I hope you are a man of yours.¡± Then he tossed a water skin down to Dryden, ¡°Will you make it to Andaban?¡±


    ¡°I think so.¡± Dryden grunted and took a sip of water, ¡°If you can help me to my horse.¡±


    Rosie had not gone far. Kal¡¯kuris helped him up into her saddle. Breathing was difficult for Dryden.


    ¡°You are shot.¡± The emissary noted.


    Dryden grunted in surprise. He had not noticed at all, such was the pain in his ribs and from his various other wounds.


    ¡°What will you do?¡± Dryden asked.


    ¡°I will find a way back and advise King Kurush in whatever way I find best for the true people of this land. I will do my best to protect your women until you come to claim them. Ride now, Dryden. Go to Andaban. Tell them what happened here. Then return and fulfil your oath to this land. It will hold you to it.¡±


    ¡°What of the witch?¡± Dryden asked suddenly, ¡°Hood said she found power to the east.¡±


    ¡°She did. If you want to know, go east of the Shan, to the place where the blood of the land spills from the mountains onto the indigo steppe. You will find the ruins of the eldest in that place. It is there she delved her secrets. I warn you, it is not a place for men.¡± Then the Vuruni emissary turned his horse and rode north across the desert towards the treacherous northern passes that might take him home.


    Dryden turned south down the road at that place where the land flattened from the mountains and became rolling dry hills and followed the long road home. All the way south to Andaban the mountains loomed up on his left, a silent reminder that his words were written in anger and sealed in the blood of the army upon the land of Vurun. Most of his friends were dead and gone. Pain, thirst, exhaustion, and grief were his only company on the ride. Rosie plodded along in silence, feeling the same exhaustion and pain as Dryden. Two days it took them to ride south, stopping only for meagre sips of water from muddy springs along the road. He could feel the life fading from him the whole way. The last thing he remembered of the slow ride was sighting the walls of Andaban in the distance. Then he awoke in the infirmary, with Dansby looming over him, asking about the fate of the army, and the bloody 13<sup>th</sup>.

 Soaked in the Blood of Conquest

    Epilogue


    It was evening in Andaban. A dry dusty haze filled the sky. Only a light breeze blew. The sky was a bright orange and looked ablaze. Dryden stood with Colonel Dansby, Major Havelock, and Captain Khathan atop the walls of Andaban looking out at the enemy who was encamping around the city. Somehow Captain Khathan had made it out of Vurun as well. He had formed the squares down near the fort at the place called Golconda and been lost to Dryden in the smoke and fighting. The battle had been fierce. They had been so stout in their holding the road to the pass, and the supporting cannon fire from Hood so effective, that the riders had eventually simply gone around them through the difficult terrain. When the squares had finally broken, the surviving Guludans ran for the hardest hills and climbed up into them. They had hidden and waited for days, drinking melted snow and starving. Eventually, the Vuruni army had gone, and the small surviving group of Guludan sepoys had climbed over the pass and come down to Andaban themselves. Of Hood¡¯s fate, they did not know, only that the fort had fallen as well, and that none had escaped.


    ¡°Oh, Major Dryden, I wanted to give you something,¡± Dansby said suddenly. He snapped his fingers and a servant came rushing up with a bundle in his arms and handed it to the Colonel.


    ¡°We found this out on the road.¡± He unwrapped it. It was Colonel Gorst¡¯s sword. He had thought it lost. He remembered having lost it, but his mind had been so weakened by his injuries and exhaustion, that he had not been able to retrieve it. Now the colonel presented to him.


    He took the sword, ¡°Thank you, sir. I am most grateful.¡±


    ¡°Not at all, Major, think nothing of it. It would not do for you to go into battle without a sword.¡± Dansby said.


    ¡°Indeed.¡± Major Havelock agreed, ¡°Speaking of which, I understand that when this little siege is done, we will be sent back into Vurun.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I received a letter yesterday. Two armies are being mustered and sent up this way. Something about unfinished business with the Vuruni. They¡¯re calling it the Army of Reprisal or some such twaddle. I suppose the name will mollify the folks back home. One army will be Company men under General Winslow. The other army will be the King¡¯s army under General Haddock. I understand the 13<sup>th</sup> Dragoons, under Havelock, will be transferred to Haddock¡¯s command when they arrive. You too, I should think, Dryden.¡±


    ¡°I have no men in my command,¡± Dryden said, ¡°They are all dead.¡±


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    ¡°Nonsense. I have command of the Andaban squadrons, but I¡¯ll need a proper second in command. I can think of none better, Major.¡± Havelock said, ¡°The job is yours if you¡¯ll accept it. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be promoted, decorated, and whatnot, for your actions, but you¡¯re welcome to come with us.¡±


    ¡°Promotions can wait. I¡¯m for Vurun. I made a promise and I mean to keep it.¡± Dryden said softly, ¡°What of you Captain Khathan?¡± He asked, deflecting the subject off himself.


    ¡°There will be Guludan men in your armies. There are always Guludan men in your armies. We are strong fighters. I will find a place with them. Many of my men left wives and children behind in Vurun as prisoners. Most of my men may be dead, but I will do what I can for their families.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome to ride with us.¡± Major Havelock said, ¡°Dryden told us of our fighting prowess. Are you good with a horse?¡±


    ¡°I would like that. Guludan children are born in the saddle. I can ride.¡± He nodded, ¡°I thank you for the offer. What rank would you give me?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a captain. I wouldn¡¯t give you any other rank.¡± Havelock replied.


    A look of surprise crossed Khathan¡¯s face, ¡°But I am not of Vastrum.¡±


    ¡°It matters not for the man who held back the Vuruni hordes at Golconda. Any man of mine will follow such an officer, even a Guludan.¡±


    ¡°I thank you, sir.¡± He said, genuinely grateful.


    Slowly the sun continued to set behind the enemy army encampment. The bright shades of sunset faded into a pale blue that turned dark as they stood and watched. ¡°When will they come, do you think?¡± Havelock asked.


    ¡°If the witch is with them, tonight.¡± Dryden answered, ¡°The morning if she is not.¡±


    ¡°We have emptied the graveyards and re-buried the bones outside the walls.¡± Dansby said, ¡°It was not a popular thing to do with the people of the city, but we paid their priests well to help us re-bury their dead in the right way. There may be some bones we did not find, but I think she will not be able to cause such chaos as she did in Vurun. Even now, our new armies are on the move to relieve us. The siege will be short, and in the end, this rabble will be forced to attack our walls directly. That will fail. The walls are sturdy, our soldiers stout of heart. Then the armies will come and they will be forced to retire back across the Settru pass to the eastern side of the Korum. We will come after them and carve them bloody across Vurun, and the whole land will be ours again.¡±


    Dansby¡¯s words felt prophetic to Dryden. He could see it all before them. He knew it would come to pass. He wondered at his own promise to the mountains and his vow to Kal¡¯kuris. The circle of violence and blood would continue for another cycle. The land soaked in the blood of conquest and rebellion. The aethium which grew from those fertile soils. The power possessed in those indigo flowers made empires envious and drew the lustful gaze of kings, drawing more conquest and killing to the land. There would be no end to it. What could one man do? He could fight. Dryden rested his hand on the hilt of his sword and looked out one more time upon the Vuruni army, and waited in silence for the enemy to come.


    The End